Black linework geometric tattoo on a man's upper arm, with an inverted triangle, a striped circle and faceted polyhedra in a geometric style.

Geometric triangle and polyhedra on an upper arm

Geometric · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo covers the upper arm with an inverted black triangle enclosing a circle filled with horizontal stripes. Faceted polyhedra in fine and bold black outlines drift around the triangle, with parallel lines running diagonally across the design. The work is black ink only on a light skin tone, shown against a plain dark shirt and a red wall.

Geometric Upper arm Triangle Circle Stripe Line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The brass crates are stacked against the cabin wall, and you have been told not to open them until Hollin Lock, which means you have been opening them in your head since Leeds. Your uncle Ivo cast the things by hand over one bitter winter: twenty solids, each the size of a plum, each faceted so exactly that the chandler's wife crossed herself when she saw them. He called them the weather tellers. You thought it was a joke until the first frost came off the moor in a perfect ring around the bow.

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The barge noses into the cut at dusk. Mist lies on the water in long diagonal bands, the same slant as the towrope, and the lock gates groan open like a jaw. The keeper, a thin man with a lantern, takes one look at the crate in your arms and steps back onto the wet stone. "Those go to the bottom of the basin," he says. "Under the sluice. Nobody sits on them."

So you climb down the ladder with a single icosahedron in your palm and drop it into the black water. It turns once, then settles on the silt with a sound like a struck bell. Above you the sluice gates lean into the dark, and the moon hangs behind the cloud like a coin pressed into felt.

By morning the water is still and the barge drifts on, its hull empty of crates. You understand now that the joke was never the weather. Ivo had been weighting the canal one shape at a time, so that the boats would never tip and the frost would always know where to begin.