Black fine-line script reading Viajar es vivir dos veces runs diagonally across the side of the torso in a black and white photograph.

Spanish script quote along the side of the body

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a fine-line script tattoo reading Viajar es vivir dos veces, set diagonally across smooth skin on the side of the torso. The linework is thin and even with a neat, flowing script and no shading. The image is cropped tightly around the tattoo, with plain light skin filling the frame.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Phrase Text

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

The snow had come early to the high farm, so Marta's father cleared the lane with a shovel every morning and told her to keep the stove lit for the stranger. He arrived on the third day with a grey mule behind him and a trunk strapped with rope. He had walked down from the coast road, he said, and he had no name worth the trouble of writing. Her mother gave him the bench nearest the fire and a bowl of broth thick with beans.

Keep reading

Each night after supper he talked, and the family listened the way they listened to rain. He spoke of a harbour where the boats had painted eyes on their prows, of a bridge over a river so wide the far bank was only a rumour, of a woman in a market who sold him a pear that tasted of salt. Marta's grandmother, who had not left the valley in seventy years, nodded at every word. To travel is to live twice, she said. Once as the one who leaves, and once as the one who comes back and finds the door unchanged and himself not.

In the thaw Marta took the old rope from the trunk, pulled on her boots and followed the coast road past the last cedar. She counted the bridges. She slept in a barn that smelled of oranges. When she came home in April the lane was mud, the stove was cold, and her father stood at the gate with the shovel still in his hands, looking at her as though she were a stranger.

You were gone so long, he said. She took the shovel from him and began on the mud of the step, and behind her the stranger's tracks had already filled with the first thin snow of the year, so that nobody could tell which way he had gone.