Colour traditional-style tattoo of a winged Egyptian goddess with a sun disk and horned headdress, running down the outer thigh.

Winged Egyptian goddess on a thigh

Traditional · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A winged Egyptian-style female figure in profile wears a horned headdress with a red and orange sun disk and a falcon-like crest, with arms outstretched. The linework is bold and black, with shading kept flat and simple across the wings and skin tones. Red, orange, green, yellow and turquoise ink dominate, and the figure fills the length of the upper thigh.

Traditional Thigh Winged figure Egyptian Wing Headdress

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stamp had jammed again, so Idris Kanaan licked his thumb and rubbed it against the ink pad, the way his father had shown him at the post when the generator was dead. The lorry behind the barrier had been waiting since dawn. Its driver, a thin man called Mahmoud Saleh, kept touching the wooden crate on the seat beside him as though it might fly off.

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Inside the crate, wrapped in sacking, was a painted limestone panel that a dealer in Ismailia had bought from a storeroom in Alexandria and sold on with a paper that did not quite match it. Idris had the paper in his hand. The woman on the panel had wings the colour of a fire going out, scaled green at the breast, arms flung wide as if to hold two borders at once. A sun disk rose between her horns. He had seen her in a school book as a boy and had thought her the most beautiful thing in the desert.

He did not open the crate. Instead he asked Mahmoud what she was called. Mahmoud shrugged and said the dealer had named her Isis, though the paper said Hathor, and he did not care which, only that she was worth enough to pay for his daughter's teeth. Idris looked at the falcon crest and thought of the story his father used to tell, of a woman who gathered the broken pieces of something and carried them over the river in her wings.

He read the paper again. The stamp was for export, not for the desert road. He turned the sheet over, wrote HELD across the back in capitals, and pressed his stamp twice so the ink bit through. Then he waved the lorry back toward Ismailia. Mahmoud shouted until the engine drowned him out. Idris watched the dust settle over the road and thought of the goddess folded in her sacking, going nowhere but home.