Black and white photo of a small fine line outline of Australia tattooed on the lower back, above the waistband of low-slung jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Australia map outline on the lower back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a close view of a bare lower back and hips, with jeans worn low at the waist. A small, thin outline of the continent of Australia sits on the right side of the lower back, drawn in a single fine black line. The image is in black and white, and the background is softly blurred with a light, open setting.

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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

Dear Tom, the lamp in the back room of Fenwick's has been smoking since eight, and I have had the Admiralty chart spread across the drawing board all evening, weighted at the corners with your old pewter inkwells. You will laugh, but I could not sleep until I had traced the whole southern coast with one unbroken line. Mr Fenwick says a line that lifts is a line that lies.

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The Gulf came first, then the long dry sweep of the west, where the coast runs for days without a river worth naming. I kept the pen moving the way you taught me, never stopping, never doubling back. Near the great bend in the south the rain started drumming on the skylight, and the ink blotted into a small grey bruise. I left it. Some things should show where the hand hesitated.

Tonight the city outside is all wet cobbles and tram bells, and I keep thinking how far the outline has to travel before the agent in Fremantle unrolls it on a table under real sun. Your letter came on Tuesday. You wrote that the wattle is in flower over there, gold along the roadsides. I have never seen it, only this drawn shape and the one fine stroke I made, and somehow that is enough to hold a whole country in my head.

I am posting this with a tracing folded inside, the continent sketched small on a scrap of tissue, so you can hold it up to the window and see what I have been doing with my nights. Keep it dry. Write soon, and tell me whether the water really is as blue as the ink was black in the lamplight. Yours, Ellen.

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