Black fine-line tattoo of a spiral and infinity loop symbol on the inner wrist and forearm.

Spiral and infinity symbol on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a single tattoo on the inner wrist, showing a symbol made of two curled spirals joined by a looping infinity shape, with a thin diagonal stroke crossing the centre. The linework is smooth and thin in solid black ink with no shading, set against pale skin with a blurred indoor background. The design is centred on the frame with plenty of space around it.

Fine line Forearm Spiral Infinity Symbol Swirl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming sideways under the canopy since seven, and by eleven the flagstones at the back of Hollins Market ran like a gutter. I kept my reels of ribbon in a biscuit tin under the trestle, where the damp couldn't get at them. That was where the old man found the length of cord, coiled tight and knotted at one end, and set it on my counter like a question he had been carrying all morning.

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It was waxed linen twine, the sort the net-menders used down at the harbour before the trawlers stopped. He had tried to unpick it himself. The knot had gone the way knots go when they've been wet and dried and wet again, not a tangle so much as a set of loops folding back on themselves. I pulled one end and the whole thing drew into a figure like a sideways eight, a curl at each side, with a single loose strand running across the middle where the two loops crossed.

'My wife tied it,' he said. 'Before the hospital. She said if I ever got it right I'd know what she meant.' I did not ask what she had meant. I took the twine to the lamp and worked the strand the way my mother taught me, feeding the slack back through the crossing and letting each curl open and close again. It took twenty minutes with the rain drumming on the canopy and nobody else wanting ribbon.

When it came free, the cord lay flat across my palm in one unbroken line, running in and out of its own loops without a single join. He folded it into his coat pocket without a word, then paused at the gap between the stalls. 'Tie yours that way,' he said. 'Keep it going round.' I said I would, and I have been tying my own ribbon that way ever since, though I still couldn't tell you what she meant.