Fine line tattoo of a dotted line with small star shapes running diagonally along a forearm, beside a flower vase on a wooden table.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dotted line with small stars on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a forearm with a thin dotted line and small star shapes spaced along it, running from the wrist towards the elbow. The marks are rendered in black ink with fine, delicate linework and no shading. A vase of purple flowers, a sugar jar and a red string bracelet sit in the background on a wooden surface.

Fine line Dotwork Forearm Star Dotted line Flower

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

Dear Ruth,

Keep reading

The boat was forty minutes late out of Harwich again, so I had time to do what Dad taught us, walking the deck with my back to the lights and finding the stars he called the ladder. Seven of them, and I counted them off the way he used to, one for each hour the sea gave us before dawn. I have never told you that I stopped sleeping properly the winter he went into hospital, so forgive me if this letter wanders.

The trick, he said, is that the eye joins the dots whether you want it to or not. You only have to decide which dots belong together. I think that is most of getting through a difficult year: picking which points to connect and leaving the rest as empty sky.

Last Tuesday the purser asked why I kept looking up. I said I was waiting for the one at the top of the ladder to come out properly, the faint one Dad swore was a lamp left on by someone who would come back for it. He always laughed when he said it. I laughed too, and then I went below and sat with the flask until the grey came up over Felixstowe.

I am sending you the little map I drew on the back of a timetable, seven dots and a line. Pin it to the fridge if you like. When you come home at the weekend, look for the top star before it fades, and I will be on the quay at six, waiting for you to tell me which dots you think belong together.

Love, Jo