Black typewriter-font lettering tattoo of a quote running in stacked lines down the side of the ribs.

Typewriter-font quote down the side of the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a stacked block of text in a typewriter-style serif font, set in eight lines that read top to bottom. The lettering is solid black ink with soft grey shading at the edges of some letters, and the sharp, even strokes sit cleanly on pale skin. The photograph is taken straight on, with the text filling most of the frame against a plain skin background.

Lettering Ribs Quote Text

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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

Mr Fenwick's handbills had gone yellow in the caravan window, and Edie typed the last of the season's notices on the old Imperial with its sticking e. The big top had sagged in the middle since August. Outside, rain pooled on the sawdust where the elephants used to stand, and the lights of the fairground across the field went out one ring at a time.

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She had spent an hour on a letter to Tomasz, the knife thrower, who had left in October for a pier job in Morecambe. She never posted her letters. She typed them, kept the carbons, and filed them in a biscuit tin under the bunk. This one she built line by line, each phrase on its own stave of paper, the way Tomasz used to pin his blades in a neat column on the board. And you loved me like I was and had always been the answer, and the question did not, and would never matter.

Pip came in out of the wet with the post and his hat dripping on the step. He read the sheet upside down from the doorway. 'That's not a handbill,' he said. 'No,' said Edie. 'Then who's it for?' She wound the page off the roller and folded it into the tin without answering, which was an answer of its own.

Saturday was the last show. The posters promised Come Witness, and nobody came, but Fenwick ordered the lamps lit anyway, and Edie sat in the front row with the tin on her knees, listening to the empty tent creak in the wind like a ship that had forgotten it was ever going to sail.