Black and grey daisy-style flower tattoo with bold outline petals and stippled centre, on the upper back near the shoulder.

Daisy-style flower tattoo on upper back

Dotwork · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A large flower with outlined petals of varying length radiates from a stippled centre, with a soft pink wash in the middle of the disc. The linework is dark and fairly bold, while the centre and parts of the petals are built up with dots and light shading. The photo is taken at an angle on a plain skin background with a dark garment and a bathroom setting visible at the edges.

Dotwork Back Flower Daisy Petal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on Harrow Court had planted anything in the forty years since the block went up, so when Mrs Adeyemi found a daisy forcing its way through the cracked paving by the bin store, she called it a trick of the light and went back up the stairs. The next morning there were two. By the end of the month a ragged line of them ran along the kerb, every white head turned towards the fourteenth floor as if waiting for someone to lean out and answer.

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The children said the wind had carried them. Tomasz on the ninth floor said the pigeons had dropped the seed from their feathers. Nobody thought to ask Ruth, who lived alone on the top floor and fed the birds from her balcony each evening, or why she had kept her window open through the frost since her brother's ship went out past the breakwater in March. She kept a saucer of water on the sill for him, and it never froze, she said, because he was still breathing on it from somewhere far off.

On the night of the first hard rain, Ruth came down fourteen floors with a torch and a jam jar, and found the flowers had crept up the lift shaft wall in a spiral, each petal outlined in black where the rain had washed the grime away. At the heart of the largest one the petals gave way to a hollow speckled as if someone had pressed a pen into it a thousand times, with a small wash of pink where the torchlight fell.

She knelt and lifted it with two fingers, roots and all, and carried it up one floor at a time, stopping on each landing to let the water drip from the jar. When she reached her door the saucer on the sill was brimming, and the pink heart of the flower glowed like a lamp she had forgotten to switch off. Downstairs the others kept coming up through the concrete, and nobody on Harrow Court pulled one out again.