Colour botanical tattoo of pink peonies, a bud and green leaves with grey filigree and dangling chains, placed on the thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink peonies and chains on a thigh

Botanical · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A thigh tattoo of large pink peony blooms with dark centres, a smaller bud and a white flower, set within grey filigree ornament. Dangling chains with droplet shapes hang down towards two green leaves at the lower end of the design. Soft pink and green shading with dark outlines gives a watercolour-like finish, and denim shorts are visible at the top of the frame.

Botanical Thigh Peony Flower Bud Leaf Chain Filigree Droplet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nasrin had carried the peony root up sixteen floors in a carrier bag, wrapped in a wet tea towel, because the lift in Carrow House had been out since Easter and the man from the council only came on Thursdays. She set it in a bucket on the balcony with gravel she had begged from the builders at the end of the car park. Below, the estate was grey as pavement, but the railings were old wrought iron, curled into filigree that someone had painted over so many times the scrolls had gone soft.

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Her neighbour Mr Okafor leaned over from the next balcony with a mug of tea and said peonies were for funerals. She told him they were for people who had waited a long time. He laughed, then looked at the bare stalk and said it would take three summers. She said she had two left before the flats went to the developers, and she did not intend to be somewhere else when it bloomed.

The first summer it bore nothing. The second, a bud came, fat as a fist, and she checked it every morning before her shift at the laundry. Rain ran off the railings and hung in beads from the bent chain of wind chimes she had strung between hooks, droplets trembling before they fell onto the leaves below.

In the third June the flower opened on the day the letter arrived saying Carrow House was scheduled for demolition in September. She read it standing at the rail, the paper softening in the damp. Then she carried the good chair out, sat in the sun among the petals, and ate her lunch while the pink heads nodded in the wind, dark at their hearts as if they had been lit from inside.