Traditional colour tattoo of palm trees, a red sunset over the sea with a sailboat, and a pink flower with green leaves, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Palm trees, sunset and flower on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

The design shows two palm trees framing a large red sun setting over a striped sea, with a small sailboat and birds in an orange and grey sky. Below, a pink five-petalled flower sits among dark green leaves with yellow accents. Bold black outlines, flat solid fills and a grey background in the photo give the piece a classic, saturated look.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are the one who counts the boats in from the harbour wall at Porthcarne every evening, because your mother says a girl who cannot count her family has no business keeping house. Tonight the Mary Dunn is late. The palms the council planted along the promenade in 1952 have gone black against the sky, and over the water the light has turned the colour of the pear drops in Mr Lusk's window.

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Your brother Desmond is aboard, sixteen and certain he is already a sailor. You told him to keep the paraffin lamp lit on the foredeck so you could find him. He said the lamp was for the church. You told him it was for nothing of the sort, and that was the first row of the summer. Now a sail shows off the point, small and white and tipping in the wind, and the gulls lift off the breakwater as if someone has shouted at them.

The boat comes in, but Desmond does not come ashore with the others. You walk out along the breakwater in the good shoes you were saving for Whitsun and find him sitting on an upturned bucket at the stern, the sail slack, the tiller tied off with string. He does not look up. Beside him, pinned under the thwart with a flat grey stone, is a pink flower the size of a saucer, its petals still wet with spray.

"Where did you get that?"

"Past Gull Rock. There's a bay where the sun goes down into the water and the flowers grow right to the sand. I wanted you to see it before the council puts a café on it."

You sit down beside him on the cold stone. Out on the water the sun sinks red and enormous, and for once you don't count anything. When the lamp finally gutters, you let him keep it lit.

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