Black line drawing of a lotus flower above an open dotted triangle with a small drop at its point, in a geometric botanical style, shown with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lotus and geometric triangle design

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A black ink line drawing of a stylised lotus with layered pointed petals, a central teardrop and a stippled centre. Below it sits an open triangle drawn partly in solid lines and partly in dots, with a diamond shape inside and a small drop hanging from the point. The design is entirely black and grey on a plain pale background, centred with generous empty space around it.

Geometric Botanical Dotwork Lotus Triangle Diamond Dot Teardrop Mandala

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had sealed the moor road above Coldcote by four o'clock, and by the time you carried your bag up the back stairs of the Lantern the windows had gone the colour of pewter. Mrs Greave, who kept the inn, did not ask your business. She put a candle in your hand and a key on a brass fob shaped like a bud, and said the room over the kitchen was warmest because the flue ran through it.

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The room had a small table under the window and on it a tin of pencils, a square of drawing paper gone soft at the corners, and a compass with one leg bent. Somebody had been drawing there. Pencilled circles overlapped like ripples, each divided into careful sixths, and at their centre a lotus opened in layers, petal over petal. You sat down to look at it because the chair was there, and because the drawing seemed to expect it.

In the morning the snow had drifted to the sills, and you went down to find Mrs Greave scraping ash from the grate. Whose drawings were they? She wiped her hands on her apron. Her husband, Tobias, had made them through one whole winter after the mill closed. He used to say a triangle was the only shape honest enough to point at the ground, and a drop hanging from its tip was the only thing that could make it weep.

You asked if he still drew. She looked out at the white lane, where one line of footprints ran to the gate. 'He went down to the village in January for the doctor,' she said, 'and the snow filled the road in behind him.' She handed you a pencil from the tin. Before you left, you pressed one more circle onto the paper and divided it into six, the way he had, and found your hand steadier than it had been all week.