Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Semicolon tattoo on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand and forearm rest on a dark fabric surface in a black and white photograph. A small, simple black semicolon sits on the inner wrist, drawn with crisp, solid ink. The plain background keeps the focus on the tattoo's size and placement.

Fine line Forearm Semicolon Punctuation Wrist Hand

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Old Marta kept the toll-house at High Gap, where the road climbed between two grey shoulders of rock and the wind never quite settled. Every spring the lowland carters came up and asked her the same thing: would the pass hold until the snow was gone? She told them yes or no, and she never once explained how she knew.

Keep reading

One March a boy came up alone with a letter for his brother, who had crossed the ridge in autumn and not written since. The letter was half a page long. The ink ran to the edge of a line and stopped, and after it sat a small mark, a dot set above a comma, like a bird perched on a wire. "It isn't finished," the boy said. "My mother wrote it and then she put the pen down, and she won't tell me what comes next."

Marta read it by the stove. The mark, she said, was an old one for a pause that is not an ending. The speaker has drawn breath and means to go on. She gave the boy a lantern and sent him up at first light, telling him the brother would be at the far hut if the weather allowed. The weather did not allow it. She sat up that night wondering whether she had sent him with a sentence or a stone.

In May the boy came down again, and the brother walked beside him, thin and sunburnt, with the folded letter in his coat. Marta did not ask about the ending. She set a pen and a clean sheet on the counter and waited. The brother read the mother's last line twice, then wrote three words underneath it, and the mountain wind carried the page away down the valley before anyone could read it.