Black ink tattoo on the upper back showing a silhouette of a girl blowing dandelion seeds, with the word Mom in cursive script above.

Mom script and dandelion silhouette on upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo on the upper back shows a solid silhouette of a girl with long hair blowing dandelion seed heads, which drift upwards and across the skin. The word Mom is written in flowing cursive script at the top, with small dotted seeds and tiny hearts trailing from the silhouette. The work is entirely in black ink with clean, bold outlines and open skin around the design.

Lettering Botanical Back Silhouette Girl Dandelion Seed Mom Script Heart

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had settled into the gutters of Hallam Market by eleven, and Joan Pryce had given up pretending the tarpaulin kept her dry. Her trestle table sat under a sagging awning, crowded with jars of pressed flowers and a tray of dandelion clocks she had picked from the verge behind the bus depot that morning. Nobody bought them in weather like this. Nobody bought anything but bread and batteries.

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At half past eleven a girl in a red anorak stopped at the table, a fifty pence coin clamped in one fist. She was perhaps seven. Her mother was three stalls down, arguing with a fishmonger about the price of cod, and the girl kept glancing back at her as though checking a door was still open. 'Where do wishes go,' she asked, 'if you can't see them?' Joan picked the sturdiest clock from the tray and held it out. 'Wherever the wind takes them,' she said. 'Today it's the roof.'

The girl puffed once, twice, and the seeds burst off in a grey cloud, shivering against the perspex skylight and sliding down into the wet. Two caught on the fishmonger's apron. One tangled in the hair of a boy waiting for a bus that was already late. The girl laughed so hard she had to sit on the kerb. Joan watched her mother come over with a carrier bag, search the crowd, find her, and breathe out the way people do after holding something in for a long time.

The rain thinned to drizzle as they walked off. Joan wiped the table with her sleeve, and there, caught in the gap where two roof panels didn't quite meet, hung one last seed, turning slowly above the stall in the thin light, as if it had decided to stay a little longer.