Serif quotation tattoo on a wrist
Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of a wrist bearing a three-line quotation in a dark serif typeface: 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.' The letters have crisp, even edges and solid black fill with no shading or colour. The text sits centred across the inside of the wrist against a plain, slightly blurred background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Old Maud kept the walled garden behind the mill, and her neighbours said it grew better than any in the valley because she talked to the beans. Her grandson Tobias came every summer and lay in the long grass counting clouds. He wanted to be a sailor, or a bishop, or a man who wrote books about the moon, and he told her so each morning while she hoed.
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"It does not do to dwell on dreams," she said, not looking up, "and forget to live." She had said it so often the words had worn smooth, like the step by the gate.
One July he stopped listening. He spent three days drawing ships on the back of seed packets and left the rows unweeded. The bindweed climbed the runner beans, the blackcurrants dried on the bush, and the old pear tree by the wall stopped flowering. Maud said nothing. She walked the path each evening with her watering can, filling only the pots she could reach.
On the fourth morning he found her kneeling at the far wall with a trowel and a bucket of compost. He knelt beside her without being asked. They worked until the bell rang for supper, pulling bindweed by its pale roots, and when he stood up his knees were green and his hands smelled of earth. Above them the pear tree had put out one white blossom, the first in a month, and Maud said it would do for now.
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