Black script tattoo reading 'You'll never walk alone' running along the top of a foot, with matching tattoos on a second pair of feet beside it.

You'll never walk alone script on feet

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Four bare feet rest on a wooden floor, and each of the two visible pairs carries the same phrase, 'You'll never walk alone', written in black cursive script along the top of the foot. The lettering is fine and fluid with a few heavier strokes, and it runs diagonally from near the ankle towards the toes. The warm, close-up composition keeps the focus on the matching lettering.

Lettering Other Script Quote Matching tattoo

Find an artist for this

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 ferry was already sounding its second horn when Nell pushed the folded paper into my coat pocket. She made me promise not to open it until the Cumbrae light was behind us, and I told her that was a daft rule for a letter that could fit in a sandwich bag. She told me to stop being clever for once in my life.

Keep reading

So I waited, leaning on the rail at the stern while the gulls pitched down after the chip papers and Saltcoats shrank into a smudge of grey harbour. The paper had her looping hand on it, the same slant she used on every birthday card I've ever had. Three words stood out before I'd even unfolded it all the way: You'll never walk alone. Underneath, she'd drawn the line that ran from the top of the page to the bottom, the way we'd argued over it for a week in the back booth of the chip shop, her wanting it straight and me wanting it to wander.

Her note was short. It said the boat would be cold, the men would be worse, and she had already told Mam I'd write every Sunday or she'd come out to Stornoway and fetch me by the ear. It said that when the swell got into my head at three in the morning, I was to picture the matching line on her own foot, pressed against the cold lino of her kitchen floor where she'd be sitting with a cup of tea going stone cold.

The wake unrolled behind the ferry in a long white slant, the same angle as the words on the page. I folded the paper back into its square and held it against my chest until the rail went cold under my hands. Then I read it aloud to the gulls, every word, because they were the only ones out there who couldn't tell her I'd cried.