Black fine line script tattoo reading We shall never part, running diagonally across a shoulder and upper back, shown in two close-up photographs.

We shall never part script on shoulder

Fine line · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo reads 'We shall never part' in a thin, joined cursive script that runs diagonally across the skin. The top photo shows the shoulder and upper back with dark hair at the edge of the frame, and the lower photo is a closer view of the same piece. The ink is black only, set against even, natural skin tones.

Fine line Lettering Shoulder Back Quote Text Script

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp at Scarrow Head had been dark nine nights when Mrs Ada Penhale finally sat down to read her husband's letters aloud to the kitchen cat, because the cat was the only one left who would sit still for it. The first letter came from Lisbon, written in pencil on the back of a customs form. Thomas had signed off with a line he always used, a promise he had printed in careful capitals so the ink would not smudge in the damp. She had laughed at him for it then. She did not laugh now, with the wick trimmed and the glass gone cloudy from salt.

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The pier master said the squall had come off the Ness faster than any glass could warn. Nobody had seen the boat go. What the village found was a single oar wedged in the rocks below the old signal post, and a tin cup with the initials he had scratched into it as a boy. Ada had taken the cup home and set it on the dresser beside the teapot, where it sat looking foolish, like a child who has been told to stand in the corner and forgotten why.

She read the last letter twice, the way you walk a path you already know in the dark. Then she climbed the iron stairs of the tower, all hundred and twelve of them, because the mechanism was hers to keep turning now and nobody else had the patience for the clockwork. At the top she wound the weights, set the great lens spinning, and watched the beam sweep out over the grey water toward Lisbon, toward Tenerife, toward wherever a man might be rowing with one oar. She kept the light going until dawn, the way he had promised he would be home.