Black and grey fine line tattoo of a shaded paper airplane with motion lines and the words a perfect paper airplane, on the inner forearm near the wrist.

Paper airplane and quote on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A shaded paper airplane flies to the right with faint motion lines trailing behind it, with the words "... a perfect paper airplane" in a serif typeface beneath it. The linework is fine and the plane has grey shading that gives it some depth. The image is a close photograph of the inner forearm and wrist against a warm, blurred background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sister Ines had been folding the same sheet of ledger paper since the bell for none, and it still wasn't right. The wind came through the broken east window of Harrowgate Keep smelling of wet slate, and she pressed the crease flat against her knee and tried again.

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Below her the courtyard had been a kitchen garden once. Now it was nettles and a single rotten cart. Her brother Aldo leaned on the parapet, pretending not to watch. "It won't clear the moat," he said. "Nothing from up here does." She had told him the plane would carry the letter to the bailiff in Stalbridge, who had promised roof money if the case was written properly. He had laughed at that, but he had never climbed the stair to the leads with her.

She stood on a broken merlon, the stone cold through her soles, and let the plane go. It dipped, caught a gust off the ridge, and lifted, sharp-nosed and grey where the folds shadowed it, the faint lines of speed streaming behind. Aldo shouted. The plane sailed over the nettles and the water and the far field, smaller and smaller, until it was only a mark against the clouds.

"It's gone," Aldo said. Ines wiped her hands on her apron. "Not gone," she said. "Just not landed yet." She took out the second sheet, and the first line of the letter already waited for her in the clean hand she had taught herself from the chapel psalter.

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