Black and grey tattoo of a bull wearing a rose crown, ribbon and ornate headpiece, shown on the thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bull with rose crown on a thigh

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A bull's head faces forward, with long horns rising at the top of the design and a crown of roses wrapped around them. A ribbon falls from the crown, and the head is decorated with an ornate harness featuring geometric and mandala-like patterns, with a nose ring at the bottom. The work uses fine, dense linework and stippled shading in black and grey, set against plain skin.

Thigh Bull Rose Flower crown Ribbon Headdress Ornamental pattern Horn

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on Scarrow had dressed a bull for the feast in thirty years, not since old Tomas died, so when the harness came out of the church loft smelling of mothballs and sea salt, Eleni had to sit on the step and laugh until her ribs hurt. The leather was cracked along the brow. Someone had stitched the brass medallion back on with fishing line.

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The bull was called Kallisto and she cared nothing for any of it. She stood in the yard of the pound with her horns wide as oars while the women wound roses through them, a crown of pink and white from the walled gardens behind the harbour. Eleni tied the ribbon. Her fingers were stiff from the cold and the knot kept slipping, and Kallisto turned her great head, slow and unimpressed, and looked at her with one dark eye.

Ferdi from the ferry office said the animal would never walk the lane with a crown on. He had said the same about the boat in March. Eleni said nothing. She unhooked the rope from the iron ring in the bull's nose, the one her grandfather had put there, and held the loose end out like a question. Kallisto breathed out, a long warm cloud in the grey morning, and stepped forward on her own.

They went down the lane between the whitewashed walls with the whole island behind them, bells ringing, ribbon snapping in the wind off the water. At the quay Kallisto stopped, lowered her head towards the sea, and waited with the roses trembling on her brow. Eleni waited too. Nobody on Scarrow hurried a bull that had decided to look at the water first.