Black line drawing of a woman with long wavy hair, closed eyes and crossed arms, wearing a necklace, bracelets and a bra top, shown as a tattoo design on white.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Line drawing of a woman with crossed arms

Black and grey · Flash

A single-line illustration of a woman with long wavy hair, closed eyes and dark lips, her arms folded across her body. She wears a layered necklace, a drop earring, a ring, a stacked bracelet and a bra-style top, all drawn in simple black outlines. The design is shown in black ink on a white background with plenty of open space around the figure.

Woman Long hair Necklace Bracelet Earring Ring Portrait

Find an artist for this

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

By the third night out of Halifax the lost property drawer had begun to rattle, so I carried it up to the purser's office and tipped it onto the blotter. Gloves, a paperback with the cover torn off, one child's boot. And a fine gold chain knotted around a hairpin, which I knew belonged to Mrs Vera Lindqvist in cabin fourteen, because she had mentioned it at breakfast, twice, the way people do when they expect you to be sorry.

Keep reading

I found her on the afterdeck, where the wind came round the funnel and nobody sat. She was wrapped in a camel coat with her arms folded tight across her chest, as if she were holding something in or keeping something out, and her eyes were shut. I didn't say anything. I held out the chain, and she opened one eye, looked at it for a long time, then looked at me.

"You've got the wrong earring," she said. "The other one. I threw it over the rail off the Irish coast in 1962, and I've been waiting for a purser with a better memory to tell me it never turned up." She let me fasten the clasp at her nape. Her fingers were cold, and she didn't unfold her arms to help.

I went back to the office and wrote in the ledger: one chain, returned to owner, no questions asked. Through the porthole the swell turned silver under the deck lights, and somewhere far below, the sea kept whatever she had decided it could have.