Close-up of a fine line black wave tattoo on the inner ankle of a person wearing rolled light blue jeans, resting on a teal patterned blanket.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line wave tattoo on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A bare foot and ankle rest on a teal and grey patterned blanket, with light blue jeans rolled at the top of the frame. A single thin black continuous line forms a wavy, looping shape across the ankle, with even linework and no shading. The composition is a close, slightly angled view that keeps the tattoo at the centre of the frame.

Fine line Ankle Wave Line

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

By noon the Wintock road had melted into a sheet of silver, and every mile ahead looked as though someone had laid a river across it and then thought better of the idea. Mae kept one hand flat on the dashboard, the way Nan used to on the bus, and watched the shimmer lift and fall.

Keep reading

Dad said it was a lake. He said it every summer, the year the Holloway truck went into the ditch and the year the dog ran off after it. He pulled the old estate onto the gravel, took the jerry can, and walked towards the water that was never there, calling back that the far edge was getting closer. I followed with the thermos, mostly to stop him wandering off the end of the world.

What I remember is the sound. The tyres ticked as they cooled, and somewhere past the scrub a bird kept repeating two notes, rising and dropping, as if it was counting waves for someone who had stopped listening. Dad sat on the bumper and drew in the grit on the back panel with one finger, a long loop and then another, never once lifting his hand away.

When the heat broke at four, the road was only a road again, grey and quiet. Dad stood out where the water had been, his shadow stretched back towards me like a rope. I walked out to him, and he said, quite seriously, that it had gone down a bit. We looked at the dust for a while. The wind had already started taking his waves apart, one curl at a time, and neither of us tried to stop it.