Black lettering tattoo reading think POSITIVE on the forearm, with a cross in place of the letter T in POSITIVE.

Think positive lettering with a cross on the forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo spells out the words think and POSITIVE in black ink, with the lowercase think in a flowing script and the capitals in a clean, upright typeface. A plain black cross stands in for the T in POSITIVE, and the final letters fade slightly towards grey. The photo is taken close up against a pale, warm skin tone, with the lettering filling most of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Cross Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sign had been Dev's idea, painted on an offcut of tin the week after the hail took the Bramleys. By the time the first Discoveries came off the trees in late August, it hung over the packing shed door with the paint already chalking on the second word. Ruth stood under it with a clipboard and counted crates, pretending not to read it every time she passed.

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He had run out of the tall T stencil halfway through. Rather than drive to Ledbury for another, he had painted a plain black cross where the T should go, its upright driven down through the I, and she told him it looked like a churchyard. He said it looked like a fence post, which was what it was, the boundary marker between their land and old Mr Pryce's. 'Keep it,' she said. 'Somebody ought to have a marker in the middle of the word.'

The pickers came at six. Sunny, the Polish girl who could lift two crates at once, asked what the sign meant, and Ruth said it was for the wasps, which made her laugh. Dev dabbed the paint pot with his thumb and said the last letters would go grey by October whatever anyone did. Ruth said that was fine. The grey ones were the ones you could still read at dusk.

That evening she walked the rows with a torch and found the cross throwing a long shadow across the grass, straight down the slope to the boundary stone. Nobody had moved that stone in forty years. She stood at the end of the shadow with a red apple warm in her palm, and the word above the shed was only words again, as ordinary as a gate.