Black fine line script reading Walk by faith with a small cross beside it, tattooed across the top of a foot.

Walk by faith script with cross on foot

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a foot resting on grey fabric, with the words Walk by faith in black cursive script and a small Latin cross before the first word. The linework is thin and even, with the lettering set on a gentle diagonal across the top of the foot. The image is in natural colour, but the ink itself is solid black with no shading or added colour.

Lettering Fine line Other Cross Script Text Foot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada had the brush loaded with size-three sable when Mr Pearce came up the ladder with a flask of tea and a complaint. "The cross is too big," he said. "It looks like the florist's across the road." She did not argue. She had lettered enough fascias in Halifax to know that men who wanted a sermon above a shoe shop usually wanted it legible from the far kerb, and the cross could be smaller and still be a cross.

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She had pencilled the words first, a long easy slope, the W swinging out like a skipping rope, the rest of the line running down toward the step so that anyone walking past would have to tilt their head to finish it. Walk by faith. Pearce's late wife had picked the phrase from a hymn book the year they bought the premises. He stood at the foot of the ladder reading it under his breath, lips moving over each letter as though he were checking the spelling of a stranger's surname.

By four o'clock the gilding was done and the black was dry enough to touch. She finished the crossbar with the very tip of the brush, letting the stroke thin to nothing at the end, the way old Harold had taught her in a damp workshop off Gibbet Street. Then a girl came out of the shop with a shoebox under one arm, stopped on the pavement and looked up. She didn't read it aloud. She simply stepped off the kerb and walked down the slope of the words toward the bus shelter, one foot in front of the other, as though the letters had been laid there for her to follow.

Pearce paid in cash and a paper bag of Eccles cakes. Ada packed her tins and wiped the sable on a rag until it ran clean. Above the door the wet letters caught the streetlamp, and the small cross sat before the W like a full stop nobody had asked for, which was, she thought, exactly where it belonged.