Remember who you are lettering on a wrist
Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of a wrist with the phrase Remember who you are written in black lettering along the inner forearm. A woven bracelet with blue and brown beads and a cowrie shell sits beside the tattoo, and a hand is visible at the top left. The image is warm toned with a shallow focus, and the ink is solid black with no colour.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The flour was still cool from the sack when Nan pressed the wooden peel into my hands, and the street outside was only just turning from black to the colour of dishwater. Half four in the morning. The shutters were down, the ovens were ticking as they heated, and I had already got the dough wrong once.
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She didn't scold. She just tapped the cowrie shell that hung on a loop of string from the proving rack, the one she had threaded with blue beads years before I was born, and said, 'Again, from the start. The bread knows what it wants to be if you let it.'
I wanted to be in London by the autumn. There was a placement at a patisserie in Soho with a name I could say on my CV without blushing, and I had not told her yet. The chalkboard by the door still said what it had said since my grandfather's time, in chalk gone soft from years of wiping: Remember who you are. I had stopped reading it the way you stop noticing a clock.
I scored the loaves while she counted the trays under her breath. The blade caught on the third one and tore a long ragged seam across its back, and I expected her to take it from me. Instead she laughed, low, and said the ugliest loaf always sells first to the people who know bread. We put the tray in. By the time the sun came over the roofs the kitchen was full of crust and steam, and I was writing the words from the chalkboard on a scrap of paper, folding it small, and tying it to the string beside the shell where she could see it.
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