Black and white photo of a fine line tattoo of a horizontal line with two downward triangles, one dotted, on the upper back of a woman with her hair up.

Fine line triangles on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a woman seen from behind, with her hair up and head turned away from the camera. A thin horizontal line crosses the upper back, with two downward-pointing triangles beneath it, one outlined and one partly filled with dots. The linework is fine and clean, and the soft lighting and plain background keep the focus on the small tattoo.

Fine line Geometric Back Triangle Line Geometric shape Back

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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

Sit down before you fall down, because I am only telling this once and the tea is going cold. The wire ran from the pier shed at Skegness to the top pole of the big top, ninety feet of galvanised cable, and on it walked a girl called Edith Pell, who was too small for the job and too stubborn to be told so.

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Her mother had cut two pennants from blue silk and hung them from the wire itself, one above the other, a little way from her feet. The first was bare. The second she had dusted with silver thread, a scatter of dots that caught the lamps when they swung. The spangled one was for luck, my father said, and the bare one was for honesty, because a plain thing never lies to you about how far you have left to go. Edith never once looked down at them. She looked at the far pole and counted her steps out loud like a schoolgirl at her tables.

On the third night the wind came in off the sea with salt in it, and the whole tent groaned like a ship. The spangled pennant tore loose and went spinning down into the dark over the sand, and the crowd gasped the way crowds do when they have paid for a fright. Edith did not stop. She said afterwards that she had felt the bare one tug at the wire, steady as a hand on her sleeve, and that was all the guidance a person needs.

She reached the far pole at half past eleven, stepped down onto the boards, and bowed as if the whole thing had been a Sunday walk. Ask me what she kept of it. The bare pennant, folded into her mother's Bible, and not the luck at all. Now drink your tea before it stews.