Black and grey typewriter-style lyric tattoo across the upper back of a woman with sleeve tattoos on both arms.

Typewriter lyric text across a woman's back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A woman is photographed from behind with both hands raised into her hair, showing a block of typewriter-style text tattooed across her upper back. The lettering is crisp black ink, and her upper arms carry grey floral sleeve tattoos with rose-like shading. The sepia-toned photograph has a soft neutral backdrop, with dark fabric draped over her shoulders.

Lettering Back Upper arm Text Lyric Typewriter font Rose Flower Woman

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Olivetti started up at ten past eleven every night that fortnight, and by the third night I had stopped pretending it was the neighbours' telly. It came through the party wall of Flat 14B in short furious bursts, then a long silence, then the bell at the end of each line, like a bus conductor who has seen enough.

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I went up on the Friday with a tin of shortbread, because that is what you do on the fourteenth floor of Carrick House when someone has been awake for three nights. Dessie Quinn let me in without asking why. Her sister Maureen had gone to Aberdeen in March and not rung since, and the lines on the kitchen table had been copied out from a cassette she had played until the tape stretched. Every word was in capitals. She didn't cross anything out. 'A machine doesn't let you take it back,' she said, 'so you've got to mean it the first time.'

She showed me the carbon, the second copy, the one she had been saving. Under the last line she had typed a date and then nothing, a blank space the width of a hand. 'For the reply,' she said. 'Maureen used to say I never finished anything.' She rolled a fresh sheet in and the carriage shunted back with a sound like a gate.

I left at four. Going down, the lift stopped at every floor and nobody got in. The next morning there was a page under my door, the top copy, folded in three. The line at the bottom had run out of ribbon halfway through, so the final word was only half there, pressed into the paper like something caught on the way out.