Two black script lettering tattoos on ankles reading To infinity on one foot and and beyond on the other, with denim jeans and a patterned sock visible.

To infinity and beyond script on two ankles

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two feet rest on a carpet, each with a black script phrase tattooed near the ankle. One reads To infinity and the other continues with and beyond, so the words complete one another when the feet sit side by side. The lettering is in a fine, slightly slanted hand with even black ink, and the warm, close framing keeps the skin tones and fabrics soft.

Lettering Ankle Script Phrase Infinity Quote Feet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, sit, the bus is late and the barrier at Kestrel Bridge will not lift until the lamps are lit. So I will tell you about the Brandt sisters, who were parted by one wet river in the winter of 1953. Ada kept the big house on the north bank. Greta ran the tea room on the south, where the ferry used to dock before the concrete went down.

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Their father was a ropemaker who could not write well, so he cut words into two pine lintels, one for each gate. The north one read To infinity, the south one read and beyond, and he cut the grain so it ran into itself across the water when you stood between them. Nobody thought much of it. Children read gates the way they read anything, aloud and out of order, and the girls grew up believing the phrase was a joke about how long the river was.

Then the wall went up in the autumn. Ada's letters came across with the stamps soaked off, and Greta's went back marked return to sender by a clerk who did not look up. For eleven years the gates faced each other over the barrier, two halves of a sentence with nobody to finish it. Greta sanded her lintel each spring out of habit, and Ada oiled hers, and neither told the other.

When the wall came down, the first to cross on foot were two women in their sixties with a stepladder and a tin of black paint. They walked up the middle of the road and stopped on the painted line, one foot beside the other, and the guard on the bridge leaned out to read the lintels aloud. He got the order wrong. Then he got it right, and the river carried both halves off under the lamps.