Fine black line tattoo of a leafy vine wrapping around the wrist and lower forearm, in a fine line botanical style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Leafy vine wrapped around a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single continuous black line forms a slender vine with five or six small, open leaves that curls around the wrist and up the inner forearm. The linework is thin and even, with the leaves drawn as simple outlines and no shading. The image is a close crop of a forearm and hand in a blue linen dress against a brick wall, with the tattoo sitting in the centre of the frame.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Vine Leaves Stem

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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

Keep your hands off that vine, the old woman said, though the boy had only meant to pick a leaf. It had come up through a crack in the quay wall the spring the Brisk went down off the Skerry, one thin green stem nobody had planted, and every morning since it had climbed a finger's width higher up the chandlery's iron ring, putting out a small open leaf as it went, as though it were counting.

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Now you'll want the story of it, and you'll get it straight, because I was there when Ada Penrose came down to the harbour with her pen and her stubborn chin. She was the harbourmaster's girl and she was promised to nobody, which was a scandal. Her Tom sailed on the Brisk. Every letter she wrote after him began with a line drawn from the top of the page to the bottom, a stem with leaves folded off it, and she never once lifted the nib to do it. The clerk at the post office swore it could not be done in a single stroke. She did it in a single stroke every time.

When the Brisk did not come home, the town said she should stop. Ada went on writing. She wrote one letter a week for two years, and each one ended exactly where the last had begun, so the vine ran on across the paper like a road that led nowhere but back. Then one grey morning in March a stranger came up the quay with Tom's cap in his hands and no word to say, and that same night the vine shot up the wall and round the ring.

So when you see it climbing, don't pull. Leave it be. Somebody has to keep the line unbroken until he's home to read the end of it.