Close crop of a person in a navy paisley print T-shirt with a small black script lettering tattoo on the upper arm.

Small script tattoo on an upper arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A close crop shows a person wearing a loose navy T-shirt with a gold paisley and tile print, with a silver pendant necklace and a stone pendant on a cord. On the right, a small black script tattoo of a short phrase sits on the upper arm, with its lettering partly cut off by the frame. The tattoo is in fine black ink, and the photograph is warmly lit with the subject's face outside the frame.

Lettering Upper arm Script Phrase Lettering Necklace Pendant

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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

The lamp in the kitchen has been smoking since Tuesday, and your uncle says it is the wick, though he has said the same about everything since the spring. You left the blue tin of matches on the windowsill, so I have put them in the drawer where you will not look for them. The hens are laying again behind the chestnut trees, where the path goes into the forest and the ground stays soft long after the rain has stopped.

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Padre Anselmo came up on Sunday with the new bell rope under his arm, complaining that the bell itself is now too heavy for the tower. He asked after you twice and then forgot the question while he was eating my bread. The letter from the cannery in Matosinhos arrived on Thursday with your name spelled wrong, as if they had never met you. I have kept it on the dresser, propped against the sugar jar, so you will see it when you come home and can tell them yourself.

Do not come back for the feast if the roads are bad. Stay where the work is. The goats are fine, the new kid is strong, and Rosário's boy has finally stopped climbing the wall to look at the river. I know you are tired. I can tell from the way you wrote the last line of your letter, pressing hard enough to tear the paper.

I am sending you the fern from the forest edge, pressed flat between two pages of the almanac. It was the first thing I picked this spring, before the frost went. Keep it somewhere dry. Don't let us go short of news, and don't let yourself go short of bread. Your mother.