Black and white photo of a person leaning forward in a white knit jumper, showing a small fine line tattoo of a triangle with a circle and vertical line on the upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line triangle symbol on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A person leans forward in a white knitted jumper, with their hair tied up and face hidden, showing their upper back. A small black tattoo of a triangle enclosing a circle with a vertical line sits between the shoulder blades. The thin, even linework is set against smooth skin, and the photograph is in black and white with soft, even lighting.

Fine line Geometric Back Triangle Circle Line Symbol Geometric shape

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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 rod came first, in the spring, wrapped in a bank envelope that had been opened and sealed again with someone else's wax. Mr Ashdown weighed it on the brass scales in the back room and wrote nothing down, because the ledger had no column for elder wood and he did not want to ask why a man would pawn a stick of it in a seaside town with the tide coming in under the pier.

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A month later a woman with ink on her cuffs set a ring of grey stone on the counter, a pebble with a hole worn clean through its middle, and asked for a loan against the cold. I gave her eleven pounds. She said it would come back when it was needed, and I assumed she meant the money.

The last thing was a little iron frame, three struts hinged at the corners, with a wheel of fine wire at its heart. It came with a note in a crabbed hand: The third is the one you will not sell. I have never sold it. On nights when the gas runs low I hold it to the lamp and the wire turns slowly toward the window, toward the water, as if it knew the road better than I do.

Last Tuesday the shop bell rang at four in the morning, though the door was still bolted. The rod was warm when I reached for it. The stone was gone from the velvet tray. The frame lay open on the counter, its wheel stopped dead, pointing at the door. I locked up, wrote in the ledger at last, and left the column for the pledge blank.