Outline tattoo on an upper arm showing a city skyline above script reading There's no place like home, with red-shaded flowers below.

City skyline and script lettering on upper arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a skyline of tall buildings with a car drawn in the middle, above flowing script lettering that reads "There's no place like home". Poppy-style flowers with red shading sit along the bottom of the design. The linework is black and fairly bold, with red and pale blue shading in the flowers, road and buildings, and the design fills much of the upper arm against a plain background.

Lettering Botanical Upper arm Skyline Skyscraper Script Lettering Flower Poppy Car Road

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wing mirror had been cracked since the bridge, so I watched Port Ardell shrink through the half that still worked: first the grey towers, then the lit offices nobody would fill again, then a single red light on the tallest one, blinking as if it had forgotten who it was meant for. I kept my eyes on the road and my hands at ten to two, the way Dad taught me in the car park behind the chapel.

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Nan's box sat on the passenger seat with the seatbelt across it. Inside was a tin of mismatched buttons, a tea towel printed with a map of the coast, and a letter in her looping hand that I had promised not to open until the hard shoulder. The verges were full of poppies, ragged red things with black hearts, lolling in the wind off the lorries. She had always said they only came up where something had been disturbed, and I had never asked her what she meant.

At Halden Cross the road split, and the sign for Carrick Bay pointed left towards a sky the colour of wet slate. The radio found a station halfway through a song about somebody's kitchen, and I left it on because the silence was worse. Every few miles a town I half remembered came up beside the road: a church spire, a bus shelter with its glass smashed, a row of houses with their doors all painted the same blue.

I pulled into the lay-by at Carrick Bay with the engine running and unfolded the letter against the steering wheel. It was one line long and underlined twice. Come home when you're ready, not before, and bring the poppies if you can carry them. I looked out at the verge, where the red heads bowed and lifted in the wind, and I got out to pick some.