Close view of a forearm with gold and silver metallic geometric tattoo bands of dots and triangles, alongside black leather bangles, in Geometric style on the forearm and wrist.

Gold and silver geometric bands on forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A forearm and wrist are shown from above, with a hand resting at the top of the frame. Several bands of metallic gold and silver geometric designs cover the skin, including a dotted pattern of circles, a row of triangles and crosses, and thin linework, and they appear to be temporary foil tattoos. Black leather bangles sit across the wrist, and a plain dark fabric fills the left side of the image.

Geometric Forearm Dot Triangle Circle Bangle Band

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada had the brass wheel heated by seven, the way her father had taught her, and by half past she had laid the first strip of gold leaf across the cover of the ledger. The leather was black calf, cold from the workshop yard, and it took the tool the way cold ground takes a spade, grudgingly and then all at once. She pressed the dot wheel along the margin, a row of small white circles, then the larger rounds her father called moons, then the triangles with their crossed centres. Every mark had to be struck twice or it would fade by the spring.

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The ledger had come from a solicitor in Whitby with a note pinned to its board. The patterns were to be copied exactly from the old binding, which had rotted to a brown sponge on the shelf. Ada worked the last of the old gilt free with a scalpel and found, beneath the flakes, a faint scratched sequence that was not decoration at all. Three crosses, a moon, two dots. She had seen the same order written on the back of a tide table in her father's drawer.

She sat with it until the lamp ran low. The triangles, she decided, were not triangles but the bows of boats turned toward the harbour mouth. Her father had marked the safe channel that way years back, for a cousin who never came to collect what he was owed. She laid the silver leaf down beside the gold, the way the old book had been, and let the cold metal bite.

In the morning the solicitor's clerk came for the ledger. Ada wrapped it in brown paper, tied it with twine, and did not mention the scratches. She kept the offcut of silver leaf in her apron pocket, folded small, about the width of a tide.