Colour tattoo of a robin perched on a branch of pink cherry blossom across the upper arm and shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Robin and cherry blossom on an upper arm

Botanical · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A robin with an orange-red breast and warm brown wings sits on a thin branch covered in pink cherry blossom flowers and small green leaves. The bird is shaded softly with a realistic feel, while the blossoms are outlined and filled with lighter pink tones. The design wraps around the upper arm and shoulder, with blossoms framing the bird on a light skin background.

Botanical Realism Upper arm Shoulder Bird Cherry blossom Branch Leaves Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The village hall smelled of floor polish and the sausage rolls nobody had touched. Dennis Harrold had brought a photograph album and kept turning it towards Priya Nandi, tapping faces with a fingernail as though she might have forgotten them. Gail Pemberton was at the trestle table pinning name badges, and she had printed Priya's with the wrong surname, which Priya decided not to mention. She had come early so she could leave early. That was the plan, and it lasted until she saw the mural.

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It had been rolled up and stored behind the stage, and someone had unfurled one corner for the anniversary display. Thirty years ago the whole class had painted it on the back wall of Room Four: pink blossom on brown branches, every child's petals a slightly different pink. Mr Aske had let Priya do the bird because she was the only one who would not stop asking what colour a robin's breast really was. She had mixed the orange with a dab of red and a fleck of ochre, and he had said, standing back with his hands in his cardigan pockets, that it looked as if it might fly off the wall.

Dennis came up beside her with the album open to a blurred photograph of the same wall, taken on a disposable camera. 'You made the bird,' he said, as if she needed telling. 'Nobody else could get its chest right.' Priya thought about the small hard breath a robin takes before it sings, and how at nine she had believed it was the only thing in the room not waiting for the bell.

She left the album open on the table and walked out into the car park. The old school had been knocked down two winters ago, but the cherry tree by the gate had survived the digger and was full of blossom, pale pink against a grey sky. A robin landed on the low branch above her head, turned one black eye on her, and sang once before it went.