Black line drawing of a tree with a figure in yoga tree pose, its body filled with mandala patterns, with roots below and no body placement shown.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Yoga tree pose with leafy branches and roots

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A black ink drawing of a leafy tree whose branches form a canopy above a standing figure in yoga tree pose, arms raised overhead. The figure's body is filled with intricate mandala and floral patterns, and the roots spread out below the raised foot. The design uses solid black on a white background with no shading or colour.

Botanical Tree Figure Mandala Leaves Branches Root

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell had worked the night desk at the Ardwick bus depot for eleven years, and in all that time she had never once seen the plane tree on Lathom Street move. It stood at the corner by the chip shop with its canopy of dark leaves hanging over the bus shelter, and it was the only thing on the street that kept still when the buses groaned past at three in the morning.

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The night the pavement cracked, she was eating cold chips from the paper on the bench. A root the thickness of her arm rose out of the flags like a knuckle, then another, and they combed out across the wet tarmac in long forked fingers. Something under the tree was pulling itself upright. Nell put the chips down and watched the trunk bend, slow as a sleeper turning over, until its crown lifted and the branches stretched wide and level, arms raised above a figure she had never noticed before, standing on one leg in the lamplight with its palms pressed together over its head.

She did not know what to say to it, so she said good evening. The figure did not answer, but the patterned flowers across its body seemed to brighten, each little bloom of ink opening the way a window does when someone inside finally switches on a light. Nell realised she had been holding her breath, and let it out, and the leaves above her rustled with a sound like applause.

At dawn the roots slid back under the flags, the tree settled into its usual sulk, and the council man who came to sweep the glass found nothing amiss. But on the bench there was a single chip left in its paper, still warm, and beside it a leaf that had not been there before. Nell kept it in her locker, and every night after that she stood on one foot at the bus stop until the first bus came, and nobody thought it strange.