Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Dark sun tattoos on both forearms
Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A close crop of a man in a beige linen waistcoat, gingham shirt with rolled sleeves, mustard bow tie and a small sprig boutonniere, with his hands in his trouser pockets. Each forearm carries a dark, circular sun-like design with radiating marks, rendered in black and grey ink. The soft beach backdrop keeps the focus on the tattoos and outfit.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Marguerite, the flour has got into the seams of my good coat again, so forgive the smell of it. I have been up since three and the oven has only just come to heat. Your father's old peel is still propped by the back door where you left it, and I have not moved it, because it seems wrong to touch it while the bread is rising.
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The sun is what I wanted to tell you about. Every morning I stand on the step with the first tray cooling and wait for the light to come over the chimneys of Ferrier Lane. It comes in low and sideways, and it strikes the tin sign above the shop so that a sun seems to wake on the wall. You painted that sign the summer before you left, do you remember, with the rays all uneven because you would not use a ruler. Mr Oduya across the road says it is the only honest sun in the parish.
Yesterday a boy came in with an order for the harbour café and asked whether we were the bakers who open at this hour. I said yes. He asked why we bother when nobody is awake to buy. I told him somebody always is, and the sun never checks first. He laughed, took two rounds of rye and a bag of the burnt sugar biscuits you used to hide from the customers.
I have kept one biscuit for you in the tin by the window. It will be stale by the time the post reaches you, so eat it anyway and think of the sign going gold at six. Come home when the rays are straight again. Yours, always at the oven, Thomas.
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