Realism tattoo of a Buddha head surrounded by roses on the thigh, with a floral tattoo on the forearm of a seated woman in a car.

Buddha head and roses on a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A grey-shaded Buddha head with closed eyes and a tightly curled hair pattern sits at the centre of a ring of roses on the outer thigh, set against a reddish background. A second tattoo of ornamental floral and scroll shapes runs along the forearm of the same person, whose torso and face are not shown. The photograph is taken indoors in a car, with the Buddha tattoo sharp and the rest of the frame softer.

Realism Thigh Forearm Buddha Rose Floral Ornament Portrait

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You arrive at the bakery at half past three, when Gwen has already left the shutter half up and the radio is murmuring the shipping forecast to nobody. The flour sacks stand in their stacks like sleepers. You tie your apron twice, the way your mother taught you, and reach for the bowl of starter that has been breathing all night under a tea towel.

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The rose bush beside the back door has been dropping petals on the step since the frost broke. Gwen says the little tin-print Buddha pinned above the proving shelf, bought from a market stall in Brighton, is the reason the oven never sulks. You do not believe her. But you have learned to sit with the dough for a minute before you knead, eyes shut, listening to the old deck oven tick as it warms, and you wonder whether that is what she meant.

The first tray of bloomers goes in at quarter to four. The kitchen fills with the smell that makes strangers stop on the pavement. You shape the last batch of rolls with your knuckles, slow and slightly lopsided, and when Gwen comes through jangling her keys she stops in the doorway and watches your hands for a while without saying anything.

"Those are the ones," she says at last. She takes a roll still hot from the rack and presses it into your palm. You break it open, and steam rises between you like a question neither of you needs to answer. Outside the window the sky is turning the colour of weak tea, a van door slams somewhere down the road, and the day begins without you having to hurry it.