Black linework compass rose with N, S, E and W letters, set over a purple, green and blue watercolour wash on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Compass rose with watercolour wash on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A black compass rose with a ringed dial and tick marks sits at the centre of the design, with the letters N, S, E and W at the cardinal points. Behind it, soft purple, green and blue watercolour washes bleed outwards and fade at the edges of the skin. The bold black compass is the clear focal point, with the coloured wash framing it on a vertical composition.

Geometric Forearm Compass Compass rose Watercolour Cardinal points North South East West

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, the pears came down in the night again, so I have had Mrs Ostler's boys up the ladders since six and the whole lane smells of cider. You will laugh, but I finally opened the box you left on the hall table. The brass compass was still there under the tissue, its glass cracked across the N, and a folded note said only: point it at the orchard gate and walk.

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I did not believe a word of it. I took it out to the rows anyway, the sun low over the Bramley trees and the dew soaking my hem. The needle swung, sulked, and settled on a spot past the far wall, where the damson branches hang over the stile and the fallen fruit has split its skins into the grass. The ground there gave under my boot. Beneath a flat stone, wrapped in oilcloth, I found a tin of letters in your hand, one for every August since you left. None were ever posted. Each ended with the same line about north.

I sat on the wall and read until the light went blue over the hedge and then to the thin green of a cold apple. Some of your letters were angry, some were only lists of weather and wages, and the last one was short. It said the road home is not the one you think, and that the compass only ever knew where the orchard was, never where you were.

I have left the compass on the gatepost where you will see it from the lane. The gate is open and the kettle is on. Come home by the south road, and bring the tin. Yours, Ruth.