Colour tattoo of a girl with long dark hair reading a book while seated on a stack of yellow blocks, on an arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Girl reading on stacked blocks

Other · Colour · Photo

A girl with long dark hair and a blue dress sits on top of a stack of yellow and orange blocks, holding an open book. A grey block sits beneath the stack. The bold black outline is filled with flat colour in blue, yellow, orange and grey, with soft shading on the blocks, and the design is centred on the skin with plain background around it.

Other Girl Book Long hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on the quay ever worked out how I got up there, least of all Mrs Pascoe, who ran the chandlery and swore the crates were nailed for stacking, not for climbing. I started with the orange ones, four of them, shoved against the harbour wall where the gulls liked to sit. Then the grey one, which had held lamp oil and still smelled of it, went underneath so the whole pile stood higher than the bollards and I could see over the wall to the bar mouth.

Keep reading

The book was from the mobile library van that came on Thursdays and parked by the net sheds with its engine ticking. It was a fat novel with a cracked spine and a pressed fern between pages ninety and ninety-one, and I read it sitting cross-legged on the top crate with my shoes off, while the Marigold and the Two Brothers came in on the evening tide. Dad's boat was the Marigold. I could tell by the way she sat low at the stern and by the blue wheelhouse, and I could tell he was watching the wall before he was watching the water.

When the squall came off the point the stack swayed, and Mrs Pascoe came out with her arms folded and told me to get down before I broke my neck. I didn't get down. I turned to the next page, which was the part where the girl finally says what she thinks to the headmistress, and I read it out loud so the whole quay could hear. Dad laughed on the Marigold's deck and threw me a line, which I tied round the top crate, and that was the only way he ever asked me to come down. I left the book up there that night, wedged in the fern's gap, for whoever came next.