Black line tattoo of a sun with a smiling crescent moon face and rays, on the side of a person's torso above the waistband of their jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun with a moon face tattoo on the side

Traditional · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A person is photographed from behind, showing a black line tattoo of a sun with a crescent moon face in its centre and radiating rays. The linework is single-weight and clean, with no shading, and the design sits on the side of the back above the jeans waistband. The image is in natural indoor light against a kitchen background, with the skin and tattoo as the main focus.

Traditional Ribs Sun Moon Face Celestial Ray

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hanne kept the walled garden behind the mill, and every summer the sun came over the wall to look at her beans. He was a round, bright fellow with rays going out from him like the spokes of a cart wheel, and he had a habit of squinting when he laughed, which made the rays jump.

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The moon came only at night, sliding up over the orchard with her face half turned away. She had been courting the sun for longer than anyone in the village could count, and the courting went badly, because the sun burned everything he touched and the moon could not bear to be looked at too hard. Hanne heard them through the cracks in the potting shed. Nobody else in the parish could.

One evening in late August the moon came down to the gate, pale as milk, and said she was tired of being the second light. The sun, hearing this from the top of the elm, gave a short laugh and scorched the paint off the shed door. Hanne sat on the step with her hands in her apron and waited. She had seen the two of them argue before, and she knew the argument always ended with them touching the same tree, one above and one below, until the leaves went silver on one side and gold on the other.

So she planted a row of marigolds between the beans and the wall, the orange kind that turn their heads to follow the light, and she told them both they could meet there at the turn of the year, when the days were even. They never did agree on the hour. But the marigolds bloomed bright at noon and kept their faces open all night, and the sun and moon, when they passed each other over the mill, could be seen to wink.