Close view of a forearm with two gold metallic chevron arrow temporary tattoos above the wrist, and a row of small gold triangles on the thigh.

Gold metallic chevron and triangle temporary tattoos

Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A forearm with two gold metallic chevron arrow designs, a gold wrist design, and a gold watch and bracelets, photographed against a beach. A row of small gold triangles sits on the upper thigh beside ripped denim shorts. The fine, flat metallic linework is shown in a simple, minimal composition with a soft sea background.

Geometric Forearm Thigh Chevron Arrow Triangle Watch Bracelet Denim Beach Gold

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Entry the fourth of August. Brass watch, unmarked, pawned against three pounds by a man who would not look at the scales. I wrote him down as Mr Ashdown because he asked me to, and because the sea was loud enough that neither of us could tell whether the name was true. Behind me the shop window showed the bay going grey under a bank of cloud, and the gulls stood along the pier rail like clerks waiting for the post.

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Foil was my trade before the pawning. Thirty years I cut gold leaf for the signwriters along the front, sheets so thin you could read the newspaper through them, and when the transfer fashion came in I bought a press from a dead man's widow in Ramsgate. The chevrons I cut for a girl who worked the kiosks in August. She wanted arrows that pointed back the way the tide had come, so she could always find her way up the beach. I told her arrows point where they are sent. She laughed and paid me in pennies.

The watch sat on my counter for nine days. On the tenth the man came back with a look I knew from men who lose at cards. He did not want the watch. He wanted the little gold peaks I had punched for the edge of the ledger, the spare sheet still pinned under the lamp. He pressed one to the inside of his wrist, wet it with his thumb, and held it there until it took.

I wrote in the margin: one watch redeemed, one triangle remaining, no charge. Then I tore the spare sheet in half and pressed the rest to my own wrist, where the ink had dried in a stripe. Outside the tide turned, and every peak on the sand pointed the same way.