Fine line tattoo of the Olympic rings inside a botanical laurel wreath tied with a bow, on wet skin, placed on the upper arm.

Olympic rings and laurel wreath on skin

Fine line · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A thin, single-line tattoo of the five Olympic rings sits inside an open laurel wreath tied with a bow at the base. The linework is delicate and even, with the rings in faded blue, grey, red and yellow-green tones and the leaves in grey-blue. The skin is covered in water droplets, and the shallow depth of field keeps the wreath in focus against a blurred background.

Fine line Botanical Upper arm Laurel wreath Bow Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pool at Kettleby Baths had been drained for the winter when Mr Harold Pask found the three of them sitting on its cold tiles, eating chips out of newspaper. Dora Penn, who ran the tea urn at the Co-op, had sent her nephew round with a message that the Lodge wanted the ring banner measured again, and nobody had told the nephew that the banner had been measured twice already. Harold looked at the rings chalked on the wall above the deep end, five of them, overlapping like a bad sum, and said the blue one had always been the trouble.

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They argued about it until the chips went cold. Dora said a laurel was for winners and the town had none. Walter from the gasworks said a laurel was what you hung on a grave, and they'd all had enough of those. Harold got up, went to the cupboard under the diving board, and came back with a ball of green garden twine and a pair of shears that had cut hedges for his father. He made a wreath on the tiles with his hands, binding the cut sprigs of privet in a ring, and when it was finished he tied the ends in a bow the way his mother used to tie a parcel for the post.

Nobody said much after that. They carried the wreath up to the Lodge in the rain, and it dripped on the hall carpet all through the meeting. The rings were sewn onto it by Thursday. By the spring the wreath had gone brown at the edges, but the bow held, and Harold kept the last spare leaf in his wallet for the rest of his life.