Black and grey fine line tattoo of a palm tree, waves and birds inside a dotted-edge inverted triangle, on the side of a person's ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Palm tree and waves in a triangle on the side ribs

Geometric · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

An inverted triangle frame with a dotted outer edge holds a palm tree with shaded fronds, stacked wave lines with stippled crests, and a few small birds near a distant ridge. The linework is fine and the palm fronds are softly shaded in grey. The design sits centrally on smooth skin, with the triangle point facing down.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hull had been holed on the reef off Kythera and Aristo swore the leak was the gods' doing, not the shipwright's. We limped into a cove with a single crooked palm leaning over the sand, the only green thing for a day's sail in any direction. My brother Demas wanted to beach her and be done with it. I wanted to keep the sea at our backs, where the swell could lift us, not drop us onto the rocks.

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We pulled the boat up under that palm and hammered tar into the seams by torchlight while the waves came in, stacked one behind another like the ridges of a plough. Above the cove a grey ridge of hills held a flock of birds, black specks turning against the dusk. Demas counted them aloud, the way he counted coins, and lost his place every time one dipped behind the fronds.

When the tar set, Aristo climbed the palm to look for the wind. From the top he shouted that the sea beyond the reef had gone flat and silver, and that a whole fleet could sleep on it. I did not believe him until I saw it myself, and then I was angry, because a man should not be handed a gift by a drunk old sailor and a crooked tree.

We sailed at first light. I still have the scrap of palm frond I pressed in my log, its edges gone brown. Demas says he never counted the birds at all, and that I am the liar. Between us, we both were.

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