Black handwritten script lettering reading wander often and wonder always on a white background, a tattoo design with no body placement shown.

Wander often, wonder always script lettering

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows a two-line handwritten script design reading wander often above wonder always, set on a plain white background. The brush-style linework has varied stroke thickness, with tapering flourishes on the descenders and the final letters. The design is rendered in solid black ink with no greys or colour, and the lines are arranged left-aligned in a loose stacked composition.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ink froze in the bottle before the third week of the crossing, so Mabel Orrin wrote the day's log in pencil at the chart table, the lamp swinging above her as the Constance Vey rolled through the grey swell south of the Azores. Her father's letter lay under the tin of lamp oil, folded to a square, its corners soft from handling. She had read it so often the creases had gone thin as tissue.

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He had never been a man for speeches. Every letter he sent from the chandlery in Bristol ended the same way, two short lines pressed hard into the paper in a hand that seemed to run downhill: wander often, wonder always. When she was nine he had stitched the phrase into the lining of her satchel with thread left over from mending the sail bag. She had assumed it was a joke about the satchel.

The second mate found her there at four bells, wanting to know if the sounding was right. She showed him the figure, and he frowned at her pencil marks, then at the folded letter, and said nothing about either. Outside, the sea had gone the colour of pewter, and a pair of gulls, far from any land, were circling the mainmast as though they had lost an argument with the wind.

She pulled the stub of ink from her pocket, the one she had been saving, and copied the two lines into the margin of the chart beneath the compass rose, where the coast of Brazil would appear in a week or so. Her hand was steadier than she expected. The ship lurched as she wrote the second line, and the word always slid a little down the page, as if it had decided to carry on without her.

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