Black fine line script reading she flies with her own wings across the side of a torso, above the ribs, with grey fabric at the top edge.

Script quote along the side ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is a single line of cursive script in black ink that reads "she flies with her own wings", running horizontally across the side of the torso. The letters have thin, even linework with a slight slant, and the lettering tapers toward the right end. The skin is pale and evenly lit, with a soft grey fabric at the upper left and the tattoo set against the middle of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ovens were already breathing when Maud found the sparrow in the flour sack, its feathers grey with dust and one wing folded wrong beneath it. Her father said to wring its neck and be done, since a bird in the flour spoils the bread and a girl who fusses over birds will fuss over everything else. Maud said nothing. She carried the sparrow to the back step and set it on the cold stone, where the first light was coming grey over the wall.

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Nobody in Harrowell expected a baker's girl to go anywhere. The lads who came for the early loaves told her so, leaning on the doorframe with their caps pushed back. A girl needed a man to carry her across the river, they said, and a man to carry her bread to the inns. Maud kneaded the dough and let them talk. Her mother had taught her that a mouth full of argument goes stale faster than any crust.

The sparrow stayed three days. On the fourth morning it hopped onto the sill, looked long at the river fog, then flapped once, twice, and rose clean over the roof with its wing mended straight as a new spoon. Maud watched it go and went back to the trough. She was thinking about the far bank and the bridge nobody would build for her.

That spring she walked the loaves across to the inns herself, a basket on each hip, and the lads at the doorframe had nothing to say about it. When they asked how she had got over the water, she only smiled. She had carried her own wings, made of flour and early mornings, and the bread was still warm when they took it from her.

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