Fine line black ink tattoo on the inner forearm showing the script words The sun will rise and we will try again above a line drawing of a rising sun.

Sunrise and quote on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A forearm bears a handwritten-style script reading The sun will rise and we will try again, with a fine black line drawing of a half-risen sun and rays beneath it. The linework is thin and uniform, with no shading or colour, and the sun sits on a single horizon line. The arm fills the frame diagonally against a pale, textured curtain.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Sun Quote Script Horizon

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

Nell rose before the others, as she had since the lions were sold in March, and walked the lot with a torch. The big top lay in soaked heaps under its tarpaulin, and the puddles still held the last of the dark. She counted the tent pegs out of habit, forty-one, forty-one, then stopped at Ambrose's wagon, where the step was wet and two tin mugs sat upturned on the rail.

Keep reading

He was awake. He was always awake by the time she got there. 'Bad?' he asked through the flap. 'Dry for once. Generator's coughing again.' She poured tea from the flask into the mugs, and he took his without looking, the way he took everything from her now. Pinned inside the door was the last handbill, the word Spectacular gone soft from handling. Beneath it he had pencilled the line his mother used to say over the washing: The sun will rise and we will try again. He had never once believed it, and had never once stopped saying it.

The rec ground beyond the fence was grey and empty. Somewhere behind the hedge a tractor started and stalled. Nell said the buyer from the council would come at nine, and the man from the bank at ten, and that there was nothing to be done before either of them arrived. Ambrose said nothing, which was how she knew he had already decided.

When the light came it came low and gold across the field, catching the wet canvas so it steamed. Ambrose climbed down, took the handbill from the door and turned it over. On the blank back he drew a half sun with a stub of carpenter's pencil, then a flat line beneath it for the horizon. 'Still room for the rays,' he said. Nell took the pencil and drew them herself, long and uneven, and they went on drawing until the mugs were cold.