Black fine line tattoo of the state of Texas outline with the word Home in script across its lower part, on a person's ribs in black and white.

Texas outline with Home script on ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A single-line outline of the state of Texas is tattooed on the side of the ribcage, with the word Home written in flowing script along the lower half of the shape. The linework is thin, even and solid black, with no shading or fill inside the outline. The photograph is black and white, with a white garment at the top edge of the frame and the skin filling most of the composition.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Texas State outline Home Script word

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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

Off the Cape of Good Hope the cargo hold groaned all night, and Dessie Renner could not sleep for the cold coming through the porthole. He sat on his bunk with a biscuit tin open on his knees and a pencil stub behind his ear, copying the coast of a place he had not seen in four years. He drew it the way his mother drew it on the backs of feed-store receipts: a blocky hat for the panhandle, a long lazy jaw down the Gulf, nothing else needed. Every man on the *Marguerite* had asked him what the shape was. He told them it was a state, which was true, and left out that it was the only map he could draw without looking.

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Yannis, the Greek deckhand who slept in the next bunk, leaned over one night and squinted at the paper. He wanted to know where the word went. Dessie had not decided, so he borrowed a fountain pen from the mate and wrote *Home* along the bottom curve, the letters sloping down toward the place where the coast ran out into water. Yannis said it looked like it was sliding off the page. Dessie said that was the only part of the drawing that was not going anywhere.

They made Rotterdam in the rain. The mate paid them off at the gangway, and Dessie walked the length of the quay with the tin under one arm, past cranes and stacked containers and a man selling hot chestnuts from a cart. At the end of the pier he unfolded the sheet and held it out over the grey water. The wind took the pencil lines first, the hat and the jaw, until only the ink was left, a word floating on blank paper. He folded it once and put it in his coat pocket, where it stayed dry.