Two bare feet with matching black fine line dandelion tattoos and script lettering across the top of each foot.

Matching dandelion and script tattoos on two feet

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare feet rest on a dirt surface, each with a black dandelion tattoo whose seeds drift across the top of the foot alongside cursive script. The linework is fine and mostly solid black with light shading on the dandelion heads. The tattoos are black and grey, and the toenails show painted polish, with the matching pair set side by side in the frame.

Fine line Botanical Lettering Other Dandelion Seed Script Quote Feet Matching tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer to the fire, because the wind out on the Rosa road never stops picking at the stones, and an old woman's voice has to fight it to be heard. Mother Hanneke walked that road for forty years with a sack of dandelion clocks slung over one shoulder. Every time she blew one apart, she was sending a message to someone she would never meet, and the seeds carried it across the flats whether anyone asked them to or not.

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One evening a boy called Tobiah, who had run away from a cattle station with nothing but a tin cup, found her sitting on a split oil drum at the edge of the salt pan. He asked her what the seeds were saying. She told him they were saying I created her, and when he asked who, she only laughed and pointed at the seeds going off east, all of them turning into tiny spinning stars against the red dusk. He asked her to show him how it was done, and she made him hold the stalk himself, close his eyes, and breathe out slowly, the way you would tell a secret to a sleeping dog.

He did it badly. Most of the seeds dropped at his feet like wet ash, but seven lifted off and caught the last of the light before the dark took them. Hanneke counted them with her thumb against her knuckles and nodded as if a bill had finally been paid.

In the morning the boy woke to find the old woman gone and a single dandelion clock standing in his tin cup, its head perfect and untouched. He took it down the road without blowing it, and every mile he walked he kept his lips closed, waiting for the right place to let it go.