Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Small black bird on a forearm
Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A small solid black bird silhouette sits on the inner forearm, with a simple outline and a single pointed tail feature. The ink is fully filled with no visible shading or fine detail. The background shows bold yellow, red and blue, and the tattoo is photographed at a slight angle, centred on the lower part of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Marian,
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The blackbird is back on the rail of the balcony, the one with the paint peeling off in the shape of a map of somewhere. Mr Okafor from flat 14 says it has been coming up nine floors every morning since the lift broke in March, which I don't believe for a second, but he says it with such conviction that I've started leaving crusts out. You'd laugh. I put them on the lid of the biscuit tin and it hops over as if it's paying rent.
I went down to the bins yesterday with the carrier bags, and the wind came round the corner off the car park and nearly took my hat. Somebody had sprayed the wall by the stairwell in great stripes of yellow and red, and a blue like a swimming pool, and in the middle of it someone had painted a little black bird with one flick of a tail, very neat. I stood there longer than I needed to. Nobody has signed it. I suppose that's the point.
Things here are the same and not. The council have finally fixed the door code, though the new number is written on a Post-it inside the meter cupboard, which rather defeats the object. Dev's boy has a paper round now and comes back with his pockets full of sweets he won't say where he got. The bird has started bringing string. Yesterday there was a length of red wool hung over the rail like bunting, and I'm fairly sure it came from your old knitting bag, the one you left in my hall in 2009 and never came back for.
Come up at Easter, if the trains behave. Bring the good tea and tell me how you really are, not the postcard version. I'll put the kettle on, and we'll see whether the bird comes close enough to take a crust from your hand.
Love, Jean
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