Black fine line tattoo of latitude and longitude numbers, small stars and a flying figure silhouette on the top of a foot, with a castle in the background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Coordinates and castle silhouette on a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A bare foot is raised towards a pale castle with blue spired towers under a clear blue sky. The tattoo runs across the top of the foot and reads as coordinates, with small star shapes, a flying figure silhouette and a castle silhouette at the lower end. The linework is thin and black with no colour, and the bright outdoor photograph is taken from a low angle.

Fine line Other Coordinates Number Star Castle Silhouette Flying figure Foot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sextant had slipped again, so Mira wedged its brass foot against a tent peg and squinted along the horizon while the generator coughed behind the waltzer. Her uncle always said the fair belonged wherever the ground was flat enough to hold it, but he had never written the numbers down, and that was the trouble. Nobody on the crew could say where the first pitch had stood, the one the old showmen called the Lantern Field.

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She had found the notebook in a biscuit tin under the ticket booth, wrapped in oilcloth gone stiff with damp. Inside, in faded pencil, were two lines of degrees and minutes, a scatter of small star shapes, and a sketch of a woman in a long coat riding the air above a castle with pointed blue roofs. Beneath it someone had written: where the wishing ground meets the sky. Mira had laughed until she checked the figures against her phone and found them pointing at a scrap of wasteland behind the council depot, a mile from the nearest bus stop.

At dawn she walked the coordinates with the sextant swinging from her neck. The wasteland was ringed with nettles and a rotted railway sleeper, and beneath the sleeper lay a warped painted board, the paint flaking to reveal turrets the same blue as the morning sky. Nell Carrow, the notebook said in a later hand, had walked a wire over the Lantern Field one summer and never come down the same way twice. Mira turned the board over. On the back, in the same pencil, someone had marked a second set of numbers, and beside them a single star.

She hauled the board upright against the depot fence and fixed it with two rusted nails. That night, when the fair's lights blinked on across the car park, she wrote the new coordinates in the ledger and drew a star beside them, the way she had been taught. Somebody, she thought, would need to know where to find it again.