Two people holding hands at a cafe table, showing fine line black tattoos of a sun, a window and a small starburst on their forearms and wrist.

Sun, window and starburst fine line tattoos on forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two people sit at a round table with a coffee cup and saucer, holding hands so their forearms and wrists are visible. Each forearm carries a small black fine line tattoo: a radiating sun, an arched window with a grid of panes, and a short starburst line near the wrist. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the photograph is warm and slightly grainy against a grey pavement.

Fine line Forearm Sun Window Starburst Hand Coffee Cup

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The big wheel had stopped with its lowest carriage at the gate, and Nell Varley was still counting the night's takings on the caravan step when her brother came up the field with a pane of glass tucked under one arm like a tray.

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"Pardoe's window," Tom said, setting it down in the grass. The arched frame over the door of the Hall of Mirrors had cracked in the wind at Carlisle, and the grid of six panes had lost its top corner. Nobody had touched it since the old man died. He had painted the frame himself and told anyone who asked that the arch was copied from a chapel in a town no longer on any map. "We've got until Saturday," Tom said. "Can you cut it?"

Nell could cut it. She had learned glass from her father on the back of a lorry in the rain, scoring a line with a steel wheel and snapping it cleanly over a bench. She worked under the generator lamp, which threw a hard white circle onto the trodden grass, while Tom held the frame steady and moths came and went around the bulb. Beyond the stalls a dog barked at the carousel organ, which always sounded a half note flat before dawn.

By the time the sky greyed over the cattle ground, the new pane sat in the arch and the putty had set. The first sun rose low over the hedge and caught the glass, and for a moment the light split into fine bright rays that ran across the caravans and the sleeping horses. Tom said the window looked as though it had been waiting for that. Nell thought the old man would have called it a fair start to a Saturday.