Black and white photo of a fine line wave tattoo with three curls on the inner wrist and forearm.

Fine line wave on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A thin black outline of a stylised wave runs across the inner wrist, with three rounded crests curling from left to right and a tapered tail at the start. The linework is even and unshaded, with the ink appearing solid black against the skin. The image is greyscale, with the arm filling the frame against a dark background.

Fine line Forearm Wave Line art

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

The Lidden has been talking since Tuesday, and by Thursday you can hear it over the tractor. Dad says the sluice will hold until the spring tide, and he says it the way he quotes the price of barley, as if the river were a buyer who always pays less than you asked. Nobody at Haddon Farm argues with the river. You just move the calves up the hill and count the bales again.

Keep reading

On Friday the water comes across the lower field without any fuss at all. It arrives in long low ridges that lift the stubble and fold it over, then pull back and come on again, each swell a little later than the last. You and Col stand at the gate with the sandbags, and the first ridge breaks against the hedge in a rounded crest, then a second, then a third, each one curling over itself and sliding away flat and brown. Col says the field has been doing this since before the farm had a name, and it will go on doing it long after the name is gone.

The sheep are already on the mound, bunched and steaming, so there is nothing left to save except the gate and your patience. Col goes back for the lamp. You stay where you are with your boots in the wet and watch the water feel its way along the fence wire as if it is reading something written there.

By dusk the field is a sheet of pewter and the tide has gone back as far as it means to. When you climb the stile you see a line of wrack caught on the top bar of the gate, a thin dark tail of reed and straw that ends in a curl. The water has drawn it there and left it, the way you might sign a letter you never mean to send.