Neo-traditional tattoo of a woman in profile wearing a yellow flower headpiece, shaded in grey with ochre accents, on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman in profile with yellow flower on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A woman's face is shown in side profile, looking upward and to the left, with soft grey shading over the skin and a large yellow-orange flower or bow at the top of the head. A thick black outline frames the design, and a pale ochre circle sits behind the face, with a dark wash of shading at the upper left. The composition fills the length of the forearm with a bold, graphic balance between the detailed grey portrait and the flat colour accents.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The whistle at Cwm Gwyn went at six, and by half past my father had gone down the Gelli shaft with his lamp and his bread in a cloth. That left me the scullery, the blackened step and the pan of grey water, and Mam's rule that a girl who looked up from the sink would see nothing but the tip above the chapel roof. I looked at the suds and counted plates instead.

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Ffion never kept to rules. She had won the yellow silk flower at the Whit fair, shooting at tin ducks on the green with Mr Bevan's air rifle, and she wore it pinned above her ear as if it were a crown. The men called her the sunflower of the valley. She laughed at that and said the sun was a long way off and she was not waiting for it to come down the hill to her.

The spring the men came up from the Gelli for the last time, Ffion walked out to the tip at dusk with her chin lifted, watching the pale moon rise clean over the slag heaps as though it had been waiting for her. Two weeks later she caught the Cardiff train with a carpetbag and the flower in her hair, and I was left with the sink, the step and the rule.

Sometimes I climb to that same tip after my shift at the laundry. I don't look at the moon. I look down at the lamplit kitchens, and I keep counting.

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