Black and white photo of a fine line constellation tattoo with dotted connecting lines and a small script word, placed on the upper chest near the collarbone.

Constellation tattoo on upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line constellation of small dots and dotted lines sits on the upper chest, just below the collarbone, with a short script word set in the lower left of the star pattern. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the tattoo is shown in black ink on a light background. The photograph is taken close up, with the edge of a loose gathered top framing the lower right.

Fine line Chest Constellation Star Script Dotted line

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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

The galley at two in the morning was the only warm room aboard the Harrowgate Sound, and I had the steel counter to myself while the Atlantic knocked at the porthole. Through the hatch I could see the same handful of points the mate had shown me off Finisterre, scattered like spilt salt, and I kept checking them the way other men check a pocket for their wallet.

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Dougal, the bosun, said they were only dots someone had been lazy about joining. I told him a sailor who cannot join the dots is not much of a sailor. My sister Lucette had drawn the pattern on the back of a shopping list when we were nine, dotted lines for a sky we had never seen, and she made me promise I would find it wherever I ended up. I had been drifting for eleven years by then, and I had never once looked for it.

In Lisbon the agent handed me a brown envelope with her handwriting on the front. Inside was a chart she had made, every star pencilled in and every join worked out with a ruler, and a note that said only, the kettle is still the easiest bit, so start there. I pinned the chart above the stove between the tea towels and the ticket for the Tuesday fish.

That night I drew my own line from the kettle to the lamp over the stores. The lines ran out through the galley window, past the rail and the grey water, toward a place where I could have rung her from in a minute if I had only thought to look up sooner.