Fine line black tattoo of abstract curling strokes, sweeping lines and dashed lines on the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Abstract line tattoo of curls and strokes on ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is an abstract arrangement of thin black lines, including several long sweeping strokes that fan upward from a single point. Small spirals and a dashed line sit alongside them, with a short angled line at the base. The image is a close, straight-on view of pale skin with the design in the centre, and the ink is black on a single colour.

Fine line Ribs Abstract Line Curl Spiral Dashed line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind had backed round to the north-east by the time Nell reached the pier, and the kites were already tangling over the shingle like a shoal of dropped paper. Her uncle Alf stood at the rail with a spool under each arm, shouting numbers at her that the gusts stole halfway across. "Forty yards," he said when she got close enough to hear. "Not a yard more. You let them out past that and the line sings, and then it's the sea's."

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She had spent the summer learning the rule, and she still broke it. The trouble was the spirals. Every kite she flew curled its tail into little coils the moment it caught, and Alf said they were nothing but a bad tail, but Nell liked them. They were the kite telling her where the air was turning. Then the big one, the old red delta with the ash-wood spine, lifted off the rail and went straight up, and its strings fanned out from her two fists in a sheaf, four lines, five, each one pulling at a different patch of sky. She stood on the boards with her heels pressed into the gaps and watched the point where everything met, the little knot of wind she could not see but could feel in her wrists.

Alf came up behind her and drew a line in the damp air with one finger, from the knot down to the rail, then across to a notch in the timber. "That's the base," he said. "Where we stand. Everything else is just how far you're willing to let go." She let out another ten yards. The spirals ran off the tail and the line hummed. She did not look at him, but she thought he was smiling, and in the end she let the spool run until the wind had all of it.