Black fine line arrow with script on a forearm and a black and grey geometric mandala tattoo on a thigh.

Arrow script on forearm and mandala on thigh

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line arrow with cursive script runs along the inside of a forearm, with a wristwatch and bracelets beside it. On the upper thigh, a large black and grey mandala with radiating points and layered petal shapes is shaded with soft grey tones. The pale background and dark backdrop frame both tattoos against the skin.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Thigh Arrow Script Quote Mandala Flower Star

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The compass rose painted into the sprung floor of the Marine Ballroom had worn pale at its eight points, where thirty summers of heels had turned on it. Ada Frith knew each spoke by heart. She had mopped them every Sunday since her father's knee gave out, and she had never once seen a dancer stand dead in the centre without being told to move along.

Keep reading

That Saturday a sailor came in late, his cap tipped back and a paper folded in his fist. He wanted Mr Pryce, the bandleader, who had sent a postcard from Lisbon in 1951 promising to meet him here for a foxtrot. Ada said Mr Pryce had gone to Margate with the drum kit. The sailor laughed and asked if she would dance anyway, since nobody else in the hall was tall enough to lead. She told him she was on her shift. He pointed at the floor. "Then you're standing on the middle of it."

She looked down. The brass studs of the rose caught the lamplight, and beyond them the lines ran out to the walls like the spokes of a wheel the building was turning on. Her own feet were on the north point. She had been stuck there for years, she realised, sweeping the same quarter. The band struck up a slow number and the sailor held out his hand, the paper still folded in the other.

Ada took the hand. The paper held one line in careful pencil, a great perhaps, and she read it twice as they turned. He said it was the last thing an old man had said before he died, a line from a book, and that the old man had meant the whole unknown sea ahead. She stepped off north at the first bar and did not look back at the mop bucket. The floor, she thought, could point wherever it liked.