Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Dandelion seeds drifting on the nape
Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo
A black and white photograph of the back of a person's neck, with a short bob haircut and a dark top visible below. A fine line tattoo of dandelion seed heads, with thin stems and tiny dots, drifts diagonally up the skin. The soft grey background keeps the focus on the delicate linework.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mags had the tiller under one arm and a mug of tea going cold on the gunwale when the wind came up the cut from the east and lifted the seeds off the bank. They rose all at once, a grey rush of them, and went over the roof of the Tern like a flock of unmade thoughts. Her son Danny was on the lock beam shouting that they had lost the dog's ball, which was not the point, and she told him to hold the rope.
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They had bought the Tern in March from a man in Stourport who said she had a good heart and a bad stern gland. Mags believed the first part. The second she was still finding out. Every evening she walked the towpath with a pencil behind her ear, counting the dandelion clocks along the hedge the way her own mother used to count magpies, because it gave her hands something to do while the boat settled.
On the last lock before the junction, the seeds caught the lamplight and hung in the air as if someone had paused the film. Danny blew on one and it broke into a dozen pieces, each with its own small parachute, and he laughed until he hiccupped. Mags leaned on the paddle and felt the Tern sink and rise beneath her.
She wrote the date on the back of her hand so she would not forget it. Then she drew a small circle on the chart beside the junction, sold the car in her head, kept the boat, and let the wind decide the rest.
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