Black and grey realism tattoo of an astronaut in a spacesuit, with a helmet visor reflecting a lunar landing scene, across the upper arm and shoulder.

Astronaut helmet sleeve on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large realistic astronaut in a spacesuit fills the upper arm and extends over the shoulder, with the helmet visor as the focal point. The visor reflects a grey lunar surface with a lander and a small figure, and the suit has fine shading, panel detail and straps. The tattoo is rendered entirely in black and grey ink against dark clothing.

Realism Upper arm Shoulder Astronaut Helmet Moon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lodger in number seven paid three weeks ahead in coins, which Mrs Penhallow said was the only honest way to pay for a room that looked straight out over the harbour wall. Each morning he came down to breakfast with his helmet under one arm and polished the visor with a square of chamois while the kippers spat in the pan. Nobody asked him where he had got it. In Porthkerris a man was allowed his oddities so long as he wiped his boots.

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Young Tom Penhallow, who was nine and had no sense of what was polite, asked him on the third morning whether the moon was really grey. The lodger set the helmet down on the tablecloth between the marmalade and the salt. "Look for yourself," he said. Tom bent low over the glass and saw the sea, the lighthouse and his own freckled nose, and then, far back in the curve, a dusty plain and a silver spider of a machine standing on its legs. "That's where I left my boots," the lodger said. "Someone ought to fetch them."

That night Tom lay awake listening to the foghorn and thinking about the boots. He crept down in his socks and found the helmet on the hall table, where the lodger had left it for the night. He held it up to the window. The reflection showed the moon over the harbour, pale as a plate, and in the visor, beside a little dark figure that might have been waving, a line of footprints that went on and on across the lunar dust.

The lodger left on the Monday with his suitcase and no helmet. Tom kept the polishing cloth he had found folded on the chair. On clear nights he still climbs to the top of the wall with it, and he says that if you hold the cloth up to the moon you can see a pair of boots set neatly side by side, waiting for someone to come and fetch them.