Fine line black ink wreath of leaves and sprigs on the upper back, near the shoulder blade and neck.

Fine line wreath on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph from behind of a person's upper back, showing a circular wreath of thin leaves, sprigs and small stems. The linework is delicate and mostly single-needle, with light tonal variation in the leaves. The ink is black on pale skin, and the wreath sits centrally in the frame against a dark-haired neck and a black top with a white heart pattern.

Fine line Botanical Back Wreath Leaves Foliage Sprig Branches

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming in sideways off the bay since Tuesday, and Ruth Pengelly had given up on the bell. The last lodger came up the lane at dusk with a hatbox under one arm and her shoes in her hand, and Ruth met her at the gate with a wreath already in her apron pocket, because she had seen the lamp on the headland and known.

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"You'll be wanting the back room," Ruth said, and did not ask her name, because in Porthkerris you learned the names of people after they had stayed a week, not before. The wreath was made of what the cliffs gave up that autumn: sea thrift gone brown at the tips, bramble runners, a fennel head, three sprigs of rosemary off the wall by the chapel, and the thin grey stems of something nobody in the village could name. Ruth had woven it tight at the top and loose at the bottom so the water would run off.

Her mother had done the same at Sea Holly, and her mother before her. The rule was simple and old. Whoever came in from the weather last before the tide turned was given the wreath, and the ring in the middle was never filled. "The middle is for the sea," Ruth told the girl over breakfast, pouring tea that tasted of tin. "It sends back what it takes, only not all at once."

At low water the next morning the girl walked out on the sand with the wreath under her arm. Ruth watched from the window as she stopped at the line of wrack, knelt, and set something small and pale into the empty circle of leaves: a child's shoe, or a shell, too far off to tell. Then the girl stood up and came back up the path, and the tide came in over the place where she had knelt.