Small fine line tattoo of a lotus flower with an infinity symbol and dots on the inner forearm, shown against a purple and gold patterned bedspread.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lotus and infinity on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small black ink tattoo of a lotus flower sits on the inner forearm near the wrist. Above the flower, a fine line runs up to an infinity symbol, with a few dots beneath the bloom. The lines are thin and the shading is light, set against a patterned purple and gold bedspread.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Lotus Infinity symbol Dot Flower

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

Nessa had been hemming the same bedspread for three weeks, the purple and gold paisley faded at one corner where the afternoon sun came through the bedroom window. Her mother said to leave it alone. The thing was older than both of them, bought from a market stall in Leeds the winter the pond at the bottom of Harker Lane froze solid. But Nessa had found a fraying seam, and once she started pulling at threads she could not stop.

Keep reading

Under the seam, tucked between the wadding and the backing, she found a length of silver thread knotted into a loop, the way a fisherman ties off a line he means to come back for. It had not been sewn in. It had been laid there with care, and above it someone had stitched a single lotus in thread the colour of wet slate. She traced the loop with her thumb. It had no start and no end, and when she tugged gently it simply turned back on itself, the way the pond did when the wind went round.

Her grandmother used to say that lotus flowers grew out of the mud and never let it stain them. Nessa had not believed a word of it, but she sat on the floor with the spread across her knees and tried to work out who would hide a promise in a bedspread. Outside, the ice on the pond had cracked. Somebody was skating on it, and the sound carried up the lane like a rope being paid out.

She left the thread where it was. She stitched the seam closed with plain cotton, and the loop stayed tucked inside, a small endless thing keeping its own counsel. When her mother asked why she had not mended the corner, Nessa only shrugged and said some things were better kept where nobody could pull them out.