Pink flower tattoo with black swirling linework across a person's shoulder and upper arm, shown in a close photograph.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink flowers and swirls on a shoulder

Botanical · Shoulder · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows several pink, five-petalled flowers with white centres, arranged in a cluster across the top of the shoulder and down the upper arm. Black curling tendrils and swirls connect the flowers and extend outwards on either side. The flowers are shaded in two tones of pink with soft highlights, while the linework is solid black and uniform.

Botanical Shoulder Flower Swirl Tendril Pink

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell Harrow had been mending the same pink silk since Margate, and the cloth had worn so thin that the lamp showed through it. The big top sagged where the rain had got into the seams, and the bills promising the Flying Greavesi had faded to the colour of weak tea. She threaded her needle with the last good cotton and thought about the cart that would carry the costumes to the scrap yard if the Bristol date fell through.

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Her brother Tom came in smelling of paraffin and wet sawdust. "Mr Vane's counted the takings again," he said. "Eleven pounds for the afternoon house." He sat on the upturned crate where the tumbling mats were kept and picked at a loose black thread. "He wants the flower cloths sold for rags."

The flowers were what the children had come for in the first place: five pink petals on every bloom, white at the heart, painted by hand on the valances by Nell's mother the year the circus crossed into Wales. Tom had always insisted the black curls between them were the wind blowing the blossoms about, and Nell had let him believe it, because the wind was a kinder explanation than the truth, which was that their mother had run out of money for proper ribbon.

She cut the last length free, folded it into a square and tucked it into the trunk beneath the spare leotards. Tomorrow the big top would come down and the flowers would go with it, but she kept one small bloom back, stitched it inside the lining of her coat, and told nobody, because a thing nobody counted was the only thing Vane could not sell.