Black ink mandala flower tattoo in a geometric style, centred on the upper chest of a woman wearing an open knitted cardigan, in black and white.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mandala flower on the chest

Geometric · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink mandala tattoo with a symmetrical flower at its centre and pointed petal shapes radiating outward sits on the centre of the chest. The linework is bold and even, with fine dotted and hatched detail filling the petals, and the tattoo is shown in greyscale. The cropped composition shows the chest and a knitted cardigan open in a V, with fingers holding the fabric at the lower edge.

Geometric Botanical Chest Mandala Flower Petal Symmetrical design

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift at Harrow Court broke in the third week of January, and it stayed broken. Nobody on the eleventh floor could agree whose turn it was to write to the council, so Mrs Adeyemi wrote every letter herself and pinned the carbon copies to the noticeboard beside the bins. Tomas from flat fourteen carried her shopping up the stairs for a penny a bag, and he was the only child who counted the landings out loud.

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On the morning the frost finally lifted, he found a flower pushing up through the crack where the car park met the bin store. Its centre was round like a clock face, and its petals came to points, each one cut the same, as if someone had drawn a circle with a compass and folded the paper into eight. Tomas dug it up with a dessert spoon and wrapped its roots in a tea towel.

He carried it up eleven flights, resting it on every sill he passed, and by the top the petals had opened fully and the stairwell smelled of cut grass, though there was no grass for a mile. Mrs Adeyemi looked at it for a long time and said the council would never come, so they might as well plant it. They pushed it into her biggest pot, and she made him promise to fetch its water from the tap on the roof, never from the tap in the flat.

The lift was mended in March, though nobody could say who had written the letter that finally worked. By then the flower had reached the balcony rail and spread its points through the iron bars, so from the car park the eleventh floor looked as if it were wearing lace. The children still count the landings on the way up, and they still stop at the sill to look.