Close-up of three lines of black Veni Vidi Vici lettering in a typewriter-style font on the inner forearm, near the wrist.

Veni Vidi Vici lettering on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Three stacked lines of Latin text read Veni, Vidi, Vici, set in a serif typewriter-style typeface. The letterforms are solid black with clean, even linework and no shading. The text sits on the inner forearm near the wrist against a plain grey background, with a hand extended below and a distressed denim garment at the left edge of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Latin phrase Text Typewriter font

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The machine had a lowercase i that dropped below the line whenever the room got damp, and in October the whole of the Harrowgate Courier smelled of wet wool. Mrs Dorothy Quayle kept a tin of Bovril by the carriage return and a ruler for the carbon sheets, and she did not hold with fuss. So when the new sub-editor, a Mr Lowther with ink on his cuffs, came in waving a cable from London and asked for three lines set at the top of the page, she only sighed and wound in fresh paper.

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He had written it out in his own square hand: Veni, Vidi, Vici. Caesar's boast, he said, the shortest report ever sent home from a war. The rail strike had ended by lunchtime, the Chamber had folded its books, and the town wanted something to crow about. He wanted the phrase stacked, one word to a line, flush left, like a man counting off on his fingers.

She typed it slowly, the way her mother had taught her, pressing each key until the ribbon bit. Veni. Vidi. Vici. The i in the last word came out clean for once, black and even, and she thought that was a sign of something, though she could not have said what.

Lowther read it, nodded, and then asked her to take it out. Too grand, he said, too much like a boy showing off. Dorothy rolled the sheet back, looked at the three small lines for a long moment, and said she would keep the carbon. Some things were worth a copy, even if nobody printed them.