Traditional style tattoo of a bowl of pho with chopsticks, dotted steam and a banner reading Got time pho that, on the upper arm.

Pho bowl with banner on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A bowl of noodles with chopsticks rests across the top of the design, with dotted steam rising above it and a Greek key pattern around the rim. A ribbon banner below the bowl carries the words Got time pho that in bold letters, and a pink flower is partly visible at the top right. Bold black outlines and flat red, teal, yellow and pink fills sit on lightly reddened skin, with the design filling most of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marguerite, the big top came down on Tuesday in Bristol, and Dorothy the elephant has taken the cook's side in everything since. You will remember Mr Tran, who has fed us from a single gas ring all winter. Last night he ladled the last of his broth into dented bowls and we ate on upturned crates while the rain came through the canvas in a steady drip onto the sawdust.

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He balanced the bowls on the trapeze bar because there was no table left. The noodles lay in the broth like folded ribbon, and the steam rose up past the rigging where the flyers used to hang, so the whole ruined top of the tent smelled of ginger and star anise. Nobody spoke for a long while. Petra, who has not smiled since the lions were sold, slurped so loudly that the knife thrower choked, and then they both laughed until she had to put her bowl down on the floor.

Afterwards the ringmaster unrolled the bedsheet he had painted for the last show. It still said GOT TIME PHO THAT across the middle in red letters, a joke about the weather and about our wages, which are late again. Under it, in smaller pencil, he had written a date three weeks from now and the words Weston seafront. He means to open a noodle stall under the pier and sell bowls to the people who walk past the shuttered fairground.

The recipe card is folded inside this letter, in Mr Tran's careful hand. Come and cut the spring onions, Marguerite. Your fingers are the only ones here quick enough, and the chopsticks are already laid out on the trestle, crossed like a pair of stilts waiting for someone to walk them.

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