Black and grey realism tattoo of tall pine trees and rocky ground across the outer forearm.

Pine forest on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A tall cluster of pine trees rises from a rocky, grassy base across the forearm, with the tallest tree running up the centre. The trees are built from fine, feathery linework and layered grey shading, with darker tones at the trunks and lower branches fading into lighter ground. The tattoo fills most of the frame against a plain arm, with a purple top and a blurred indoor background at the edges.

Realism Forearm Pine tree Forest Tree Rock Landscape Grass

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marjorie,

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We made the last of the winter stops at Hallam Gap, where the road gives up and the pines close in on both sides like the walls of a corridor nobody wants to leave. The big top went up in the snow here for the first time this season and came down again after one matinee, because the stilts froze to the sawdust and Tobias broke his ankle on the second rope. Nobody came to the second show. Nobody comes to anything up here but the lumber crews, and they only want to know when we are leaving.

The trees are the only thing about the place I like. There is one tall fir past the paddock, taller than the others, its top gone thin and feathery in the wind, and I sit under it most evenings with the ledger on my knee. Beneath it the ground breaks into grey rocks and a rough dusting of grass, and the old pony Caramel grazes between them as if she is the last of the show's dignity. I have started counting the branches on that tree instead of the takings. It is less depressing, and the total comes out the same.

Mr Vance has offered to buy the lot of us out, the wagons, the cage, the tent and the name, for the price of the scrap. I told him I would think about it, which is what you say when you have already decided to say yes. He wants to keep the pony, which I suspect is his idea of a joke.

Come up in spring if you can. I expect the tent will be down by then, so we can walk up the ridge where the pines stop and the ground goes bare. From up there you can see the whole valley, and the tallest tree looks no bigger than a pencil stroke against the sky.

Love, Eleanor