Colour tattoo of a sun and moon combined into one face with long rays and watercolour washes in orange, purple and teal.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun and moon face with watercolour wash

Mixed · Photo

A sun with closed eyes, rosy cheeks and a smile is merged with a crescent moon in profile, both surrounded by long pointed rays. Fine black linework and dotted shading define the features and rays, while soft orange, purple, blue and teal washes spread behind them. Small outlined circles and splatter dots scatter around the design on plain skin.

Sun Moon Face Ray Circle Bubble Celestial

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Edith Brand lit the ovens at half past three, when the lane outside was still the colour of wet slate and the sun was asleep somewhere behind the moor. Her father had always said the sun lay in late in winter because it had been up all summer. She worked the dough against the cold marble and did not look at the window, because the moon was there, pressed to the glass like a face wanting bread.

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The moon had come every morning since the bakery opened, and every morning it asked the same thing. "Save me the heel of the loaf," it said, one pale cheek against the pane. "The sun never gets up in time to eat." Edith would break the end crust from the tin and push it through the gap in the sash, and the moon would take it with a silver fingertip and sink lower over the chimney pots, a little thinner each time.

One February the sun woke early. It came over the moor red and loud, and it rolled down the lane in a rush of orange, dragging its long rays across the cobbles and over the roofs, until it pressed its warm face to the shop door and demanded the first bun. Edith gave it one. The sun ate with its eyes shut, sighing at the sugar, and when it was done it blushed so hard that the glass steamed over.

The moon did not come for a week. Edith left the window bare and the heel of the loaf on the sill anyway. On the eighth morning the sill was wet with dew, the crust was gone, and a ring of breath stood on the glass where something had leaned close and smiled. She went back to her dough, pleased, and did not look up when the sun came over the hill.