Black and grey fine line tattoo of an outlined heart linked by a thin line to a small anchor on a forearm, with a tiny heart on a finger above.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Heart and anchor fine line tattoo on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a hand resting on a forearm. The forearm carries a fine line tattoo of an outlined heart, joined by a single thin line to a small solid anchor at the bottom. A smaller heart outline sits on the finger above, and the background shows a dark, glossy surface.

Fine line Forearm Heart Anchor Line Hand

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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 mooring line is the first knot Alasdair teaches you on Skerrig, before your letters and long before the names of the boats. He makes you loop it twice round the iron bollard on the quay and show him with your eyes shut, because the sea does not wait for anyone to look properly. The fleet has shrunk to three hulls since the herring went north, and the old anchor of the Morven Rose hangs against the harbour wall like a bell nobody rings any more.

Keep reading

The girl who writes to you lives across the Sound on Inish Dorcha. Her letters arrive folded into small hearts, and you keep them in the biscuit tin where the spare shackles go. Every Tuesday the ferry Corrie Bell wallows across the swell, and every Tuesday you walk the length of the pier, rope burns stinging your palms, to see whether the post bag has her hand on the front of it.

In March the letters stop. Then one grey morning a parcel comes over with no note, only a length of waxed twine knotted round a paper heart. You know the knot before you have finished unwrapping it. It is the one Alasdair taught you, the one you taught her in the summer you were both nine.

You walk out to the end of the pier with the twine in your fist and tie the free end to the anchor's ring. The tide is making, and the line runs out taut over the green water, then slackens, then lifts, until it is only a thin dark thread between the stone and the sea, and you let it go on running.