Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Four black and grey tattoos: tree, fox, sailboat, flowers
Dotwork · Black and grey · Photo
The collage shows four separate tattoos. The first is a dotwork pine tree with stippled roots inside a diamond outline, the second is a fox head framed by bold geometric lines, the third is a sailboat above a faceted iceberg and waves beneath a cloud, and the fourth is a botanical bunch of flowers and wheat stalks. All four use black ink and grey shading with clean linework and sit against pale skin.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Maren,
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The customs hut at Kestrel Pass has a stove that smokes whenever the wind comes off the ice, so I have written most of this with my gloves on and the ink gone thick. Yesterday a man crossed with a sack of seed wheat tied to his sledge, swearing it was for his sister's farm on the far side. I let him through. The officer behind me wanted the sack opened, and I told him the wheat was the only honest thing on that sledge, which is why I have been getting that look ever since.
Your father's boat is still out past the shelf, I think. Someone saw its sail a week back, tacking south under the grey cloud that has sat over the water since the thaw. I know you say he is only late, but a sailboat that keeps company with an iceberg all winter is not really out on business. The berg splits every few days now, and the pieces go off like plates in a cupboard door.
I have taken to walking the fence line at dusk. A fox works the ditch there, thin and rust-coloured, and she watches me the way the pine by the gully watches the road, without any hurry. Last Tuesday she dragged a glove off a fence post and left it on the snow for me, neat as a letter. I did not know what to make of that, so I put it in my pocket.
When the thaw properly comes I will bring the blue flowers you asked for from the meadow below the pass, along with a handful of that wheat. Plant them where the roots can find water. If the boat comes home, tell him the gate is open and the stove is lit.
Yours in the cold, Ilse
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