Small colour tattoo of a rabbit in a blue coat on the neck behind the ear, in a fine line style.

Rabbit in a blue coat behind the ear

Fine line · Neck · Colour · Photo

A small rabbit in a blue coat is tattooed on the side of the neck, just behind the ear. Thin dark outlines define the figure, which is filled with soft yellow-ochre and turquoise tones with a watercolour feel. The shallow depth of field blurs the ear, earrings and dark hair in the background.

Fine line Neck Rabbit Jacket

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit closer, because the wind off the front gets into old men's voices and carries them off before they're finished. Mrs Pargeter kept the Gull Rock boarding house on Marrow Terrace, and she had one lodger who paid for his room in carrots. A rabbit, mind. Small, ochre as a toast crust, and he wore a turquoise jacket with the buttons done up to the chin, rain or sun. Nobody in Sallow Bay ever saw him go in or out of a door.

Keep reading

The summer the lighthouse lamp failed, the rabbit came down the back stairs at midnight with a brass key in his teeth and the look of a clerk who has been dismissed. He wanted the boat shed key. Mrs Pargeter gave it him, because she'd been married to a fisherman and knew better than to argue with a creature who could not be rowed back to shore. He crossed the shingle, lifted the tarpaulin off the dinghy named Constance, and bailed her out with a tin cup.

Come morning the boat was gone and so was the rabbit. A fortnight later a postcard arrived addressed to the boarding house, a picture of the harbour wall with a stamp the blue of a good wool coat. Nothing written on it but one line: the lamp is lit again, and the dinghy is mending. Mrs Pargeter pinned it above the kettle and never once asked how a rabbit came to hold a pencil.

Now, that's the tale, and you may believe the postcard or not. I only know that on the first night of the autumn gales there's a light out past the breakwater, and a small tune of whistling drifts up the terrace that sounds like a man going home.