Close-up of a fine line script tattoo reading Still Breathing in dark ink on the inner wrist, with the palm of the hand visible above.

Still Breathing script on wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is the words Still and Breathing written in a thin, joined cursive script across the inner wrist, with a semicolon after Breathing. The lines are fine and mostly dark grey-black, with slight softening where the ink has spread into the skin. The photograph is taken from above at a slight angle, with the palm at the top and a dark background behind the arm.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wireless had been silent since the Tuesday gale, so when the crackle finally resolved into a voice, Morag was already halfway down the tower stairs with her oilskin half on. She didn't wait for the rest of the message. She knew the words the Maggie Ann's skipper would send, because they were the only ones the crew had agreed on before they sailed: two words, and then the mark that came after.

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She had seen that mark at the foot of her father's log for thirty years, a small hooked stroke after every night's entry, under the weather and the tide and the note about the seal that hauled out on the lower rock. When she asked him once what it meant, he said it meant the sentence wasn't finished yet, so there was no call to close it.

The boat came in on the afternoon tide with its rail snapped and the skipper's son bandaged to the elbow, grinning like a fool. Nobody had drowned. The wind had simply taken its time about letting go.

That night Morag sat at the keeper's desk with the lamp sweeping over the water and wrote the entry in full: wind backing south-west, visibility good after the rain, one boat home. Then she came to the bottom of the page and, because it was true, she wrote the two words again. Still breathing; She laid the pen beside the last letter and left the page open for the morning, the way her father always had.

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