Woman seen from behind wearing a white halter top, with a gold-toned geometric mandala tattoo with a dangling line on the middle of her back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Gold mandala tattoo on a woman's back

Geometric · Back · Colour · Photo

A woman is photographed from behind with her head cropped out of frame and her arm bent across her body. A radial mandala-style ornament in gold-toned ink sits on her upper back to the right of the spine, with a fine dangling line and small bead below it. Fine, even linework forms the rays and concentric rings, and the image is set against a plain light background with a white halter top strap crossing the shoulder blades.

Geometric Back Mandala Sun Ornament Star Pendant Line Bead

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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 last of the gilt is coming off the sun on the centre pole, and Mr Okonedo has asked you, again, to see whether the brass lettering can be sold before the lorry leaves Shrewsbury. You climb the ladder with a tin of rags and a butter knife, because the tent is too tired for a proper scaffold, and the canvas sags under your knees like wet bread.

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From up here the sun looks less like a sun and more like a clock someone has been winding for a hundred years. Its rays are fine lines, thin as hair, and each ring of beads is a little more worn than the last. A brass chain hangs from its lowest point, and at the end of it a single bead knocks against the king pole whenever the wind gets under the flap. Your grandmother told you the bead was there to keep time between shows, so the acrobats never missed their drop.

The buyer is a dealer from Leeds who arrives on a Tuesday in a car with no sound. He turns the medallion over in his palm, weighs it, and offers less than you hoped. You say nothing, because you have already decided. You unhook the chain but not the bead. The bead you pocket, and you tell him the sun will sit on someone's wall for a long time yet. He shrugs as if he has heard that before.

That night the tent stands with its gap open at the top, and the rain comes down onto the sawdust in a steady tick. You lie on your cot with the bead in your fist, listening for a chain that is no longer there to knock against the pole. It takes you a long time to sleep, but when you do you dream the show is still on, the ring is full, and somebody on the high wire is calling the time.