Black and grey sunflower tattoo with a smiley face centre on the stomach, framed by two hands forming a heart, with small peace and heart tattoos on the hands.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sunflower tattoo on the stomach

Botanical · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A sunflower with pointed, shaded petals surrounds a smiley face at its centre, drawn in black linework with grey shading. The tattoo sits on the abdomen, just below the ribs, and is framed by two hands with red-painted nails forming a heart shape. Small black outline tattoos of a peace sign and a heart are visible on the backs of the hands, and a navel piercing is visible above.

Botanical Traditional Other Hand Sunflower Smiley face Peace sign Heart Hand Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain has been coming sideways across the market since six, and you have stopped pretending the tarpaulin will hold. You sell seed packets from a trestle table, the canvas gone grey with age, and the only customer left is a man in a yellow cagoule who keeps asking whether the sunflowers will still be standing when the frost comes.

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Your nan's variety, she called it Happy Face, came from a packet she bought off a stall exactly like yours in 1974. Every August the heads turned to follow the sun, and the seeds in the middle arranged themselves around a dark round centre with two eyes and a crooked grin. She said the grin was nothing but the flower making the best of the light it had. You never quite believed her, and you never quite stopped believing her either.

The man buys six packets and a pair of canvas gloves. Before he goes, he tells you the stall two rows down sold him a bulb that turned out to be a tulip. You say that's a shame, and you mean it, then you fold the tarpaulin, pocket the coins and walk home with the rain running off the brim of your hat.

That night you tip the leftover seeds onto the kitchen table and find a dozen still rattling at the bottom of the last packet. You press them into a yoghurt pot and set it on the windowsill where the streetlight falls. By morning one has split its shell and pushed a pale green tongue toward the glass, leaning as if it already knows which way the sun is coming.