Script quote and daisy on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A fine line script phrase reading in a world of my own runs across the forearm and ends in a detailed daisy with layered petals and a shaded centre. The linework is thin and even, with the lettering in a flowing cursive and the flower outlined in a slightly heavier line. The ink is a dark blue-black with no colour, set against plain skin on a teal background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The allotment gate at Fenner Lane sticks in wet weather, so you lift it by the hinge the way Mrs Okafor showed you on your first morning, then walk the gravel past the rhubarb nobody picks. At the committee meeting last March nobody believed a woman who had never grown so much as a radish could take over plot fourteen. You let them think it was a favour to the late Mr Pell.
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By June the bed along the fence is a tangle of bindweed with one stubborn daisy that has pushed up between the bricks, flat-faced and cheerful, as if someone had planted it on purpose. You mean to pull it. Instead you kneel in the damp, and a robin lands on the fork handle and watches you as though you owe it an explanation.
Mrs Okafor comes down the path with a flask and stops at the fence. She says you have been out here every evening since April and have never once looked over at the other plots. "You're in a world of your own," she says, not unkindly, and pours you a cup. You tell her that is the trouble. She tells you the daisy doesn't mind.
In October the bindweed takes the rest of the bed, but the daisy keeps opening at noon, white tipped with pink, long after the robin has gone south. You leave the gate on the latch so the path stays easy for anybody who wants to come in.
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