Black geometric lion head tattoo in fine linework on the upper thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric lion head on a thigh

Geometric · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A lion's head built from angular facets, with a mane drawn as sharp triangular points and the eyes, nose and mouth outlined in the same faceted style. The design is rendered in black linework with no shading or colour, and the head is centred on the upper thigh and faces the camera. Faint red marks are visible on the skin, and the background is an indoor setting with a dark garment at the top of the frame.

Geometric Thigh Lion Lion head Geometric Mane

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You want the lion, then sit down, because the lion came off a boat called the Marguerite Ann, out of Lowestoft, the autumn the herring went deep and nobody could find them. Her skipper was a man named Ezra Pell, who drew with a carpenter's pencil on the back of tally cards, and he drew everything in straight lines because he said the sea had no curves that a man could trust. Chart a wave, he'd say, and you'll find it's really a row of triangles pretending.

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That October they were out past the Smith's Knoll buoy with the nets sinking and the wind swinging round like a dog looking for its tail. The mate, a girl called Hetty Rowe who had no business being on a North Sea boat and no fear of anything, sat on the hatch and cut a lion out of a scrap of brass with her knife, and when Ezra asked her why a lion of all things she said a lion looks at you straight and tells you the truth about how much you're worth. Then she swore she'd put one on her own skin when they came home with a full hold.

They came home light. The hold was empty and the nets were in rags, and Hetty never got her lion inked that winter, because she married a Yarmouth welder and moved inland to where the sea was only a rumour. But in the spring Ezra came to the quay with a sheet of paper folded in his oilskin, a lion made of nothing but angles, every facet joined to the next so the whole face held together like a net. He never told anyone who drew it for her. I've always thought he did it himself, late, with the pencil he kept for tallies, and that's why the mane points out the way the wind was blowing that night.