Black and grey photo of a forearm with a lowercase typewriter-style quote tattooed along it, the fist clenched at the right of the frame.

Typewriter quote on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey photograph of a forearm with a lowercase quote in a typewriter-style font running along the skin from left to right. The fist is clenched at the right edge and the background is a plain pale grey wall. The ink is crisp and solid, with the lettering set in a single even line.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ribbon on the office machine has gone the colour of weak tea, so the letters come out faint on the carbon, and I had to type the pay sheets three times before Mr Dobson would accept them. He wants them fair-copied by Friday. I have done them. I have also typed a line along the bottom of the last sheet while he was out at the lamp room, and I am telling you now so you will not be cross when you find it.

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It was the 'b' that stuck, the one that jams if you strike too hard. I was trying to get the sentence right, the one from your last letter that I copied out because I could not stop thinking about it: i like my body when it is with your body. I know. It is not the sort of thing a typist puts on a wage return. The keys went down one after another in the empty office with rain on the window and the wheel turning over the top of the hill, and for a minute the whole village sounded like it was typing too.

Ada from the canteen came in with the tea and read it upside down over my shoulder and called me a shameless article. Then she asked me to type a letter to her sister in Shields, and I did, and she cried over the spelling of Hartlepool. I said I would send this to you with the rest of the post. I have not decided whether to.

The night you go down, I will be at the window with a clean ribbon, and I will type it again on a fresh sheet, one letter at a time, so you have something to read when you come up. Bring your lamp back in one piece. Yours, N.

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