Two black tattoos side by side on the inner wrists: a fine line floral infinity symbol on the left and a shaded tribal infinity symbol on the right.

Two infinity symbols on wrists

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows two wrists, each with a tattoo of an infinity symbol. The left design is a fine line floral infinity with small leaves and curled tendrils, while the right is a bolder tribal-style infinity with shaded, flame-like points. Both are in black ink and grey shading against plain skin, photographed in close view on a dark background.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Infinity Vine Leaf Flower Tribal Scroll

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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

Sit closer, you, and mind the fire, because this is the part where the old women always lean in. Up past the last cottage at Hollin Bottom there was a wood called the Ring, and in the Ring grew two oaks that had knitted themselves together at the root. Wilf Ashby's mother swore she'd seen them kiss in a high wind, but she also swore her goat could count, so take that as you will.

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The eldest Maddox girl, Nell, went up into the Ring every evening with a basket and came down with it full of bramble, which her father thought a poor use of daylight. What she was really doing was winding. She tied ivy in loops around the two trunks, round and round, the way you'd knot a ribbon round a maypole, and each loop ran back on itself so you could never find the start or the end. The vine swarmed up and put out leaves no bigger than a fingernail, and in midsummer it flowered, pale and stubborn, wherever the loops crossed.

Her brother Tam was the other sort. He came up the far side of the hill with a hammer and a bag of nails and hung strips of iron on the same oaks, bent into barbed and flaming shapes that sang when the wind got under them. He said a wood ought to have edges. Every time Nell tied a loop, Tam bent a barb, and by autumn you could not walk between the two trees without going round on yourself, the vine on one side and the iron on the other, both of them bending back.

Here's the thing nobody tells you. When the snow came, the vine held and the iron rang, and the two of them were so tangled that the villagers say you can still make out a figure eight from the church tower if the frost is right and you squint. Nell is under the flowers now and Tam under the hammer's shadow. Walk up the Ring at dusk and you'll find the loop never closes, and that, my love, is why the wood is never finished.