Blue watercolour wave with paper boat on a forearm
Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo
A small circular wave is tattooed on the inside of a forearm, shaded from deep blue to pale turquoise with soft splashes and droplets at its edges. Inside the curve sits a fine black outline of a folded paper boat, the only hard-edged linework in the design. The tattoo is shown in close view with a hand holding the arm at the right and a plain grey wall behind.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit closer, you, where the cat can't take your place. Leave the kettle; it'll boil when it boils. Now, the pond at the bottom of Iris Dunmore's garden in Halford had a ring of blue tile round its lip, and the water inside was the colour of a jay's back. Every spring the Dunmore boy, Teddy, would sail paper boats on it, folded from the spare pages of his father's shipping ledgers, until the wind carried them over the wall and into the neighbour's cabbages.
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His sister Nell wanted one too, so he taught her the folds on the potting bench. Fold the corners in, fold the top down, open it like a mouth and pull. She got her boat wrong three times and right on the fourth, and they set it down together. Then Teddy, being Teddy, dropped a pebble in the middle to see what would happen. The rings went out, touched the tiles, and came back again, round and round, blue going pale at the edges where the splash had lifted the water thin.
That was the spring the boat didn't go over the wall. It got caught in the turning water and went round with the rings, circle after circle, and Nell stood on the bench and wailed as if the sea itself had taken it. Old Mr Halloran, who had dug that pond with his own hands, leaned on his fork and said you can't stop a ripple, love. You can only wait for it to lie down. So they waited. It took most of an afternoon. The boat sat still at last in a pool gone clear as tap water, dry as anything, and the sky was turquoise above it.
If you're wondering why I'm telling you this, it's because that same boat is still sitting there, and nobody has ever had the heart to fish it out. Drink your tea now. It's stewed.
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