Man in a white striped shirt and black tie with black and grey forearm tattoos, geometric linework on the left arm and leaves with script on the right forearm.

Linework sleeves on both forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A man in a white pinstriped shirt and dark tie adjusts his tie, with both forearms visible and tattooed. The left forearm carries dense black linework in angular, abstract shapes, while the right forearm shows fine branches and leaves with a line of cursive script. The image is in black and grey with a plain light background and the face cropped out of frame.

Fine line Lettering Botanical Forearm Leaves Branches Script Geometric pattern Linework

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Frost still lay grey on the grass when Nell reached the old Bramley rows, and her breath hung in front of her like something she had forgotten to put down. The secateurs were stiff in her glove. Behind her the farmhouse kitchen light came on, then went off again, which meant her mother had seen her go out and decided it was not her business.

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Her uncle's plan was still folded in the pocket of her coat. He had drawn the whole holding on the back of a feed invoice in the autumn, when his hands had started to shake too much for pruning: the field drains as thin dotted lines, the hedges as jagged zigzags, the orchard boxed in with a pencil so hard it had dented the paper. Under the box he had written, in capitals, CUT TO THE LIGHT. She had assumed it was about the hedges.

She worked down the third row without hurrying. Crossing branches came away with a clean snap, and the cut wood smelt sharp and green even in the cold. On the fourteenth tree a fork had grown round an old iron ring, and when she eased it free she found a biscuit tin lid pressed into the bark, its rim rusted, the faded lettering still just legible: STAND FAST, LET THE SUN FIND YOU.

She stood with it in her palm a long time. Then she carried the prunings to the wall, laid them in a neat pile, and pressed her thumb to the fresh wound on the nearest branch, where a single bead of sap was already rising, clear as a drop of winter light.