Black ink lotus mandala tattoo on a woman's shoulder, with fine linework and botanical and geometric detailing.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lotus mandala on a shoulder

Botanical · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink lotus-style mandala tattoo covers the upper shoulder and extends down the arm, with two layered flower heads, pointed petals and a small teardrop below. The linework is fine and precise, with some areas filled in with grey shading and dotted detail. The image is a close crop of a clothed shoulder in soft, neutral lighting, with the tattoo as the clear focus.

Botanical Geometric Shoulder Lotus Mandala Flower Petal Leaf Teardrop Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The drip from the back bedroom ceiling had been going since Tuesday, and Mother wanted it seen to before the Whitsun couples arrived, so I was up the stepladder with a bucket balanced on the landing when the new lodger came up the stairs holding a sketchbook against her chest like a tray. She stopped at the top step and looked at the plaster rose above the light fitting, the one the Victorians put up to show off, and asked if she could draw it. I said she could draw what she liked as long as she didn't draw the damp.

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She drew the rose every evening after that, sitting on the window seat with her back to the sea. It was a lotus, really, though Mother insisted it was a ceiling rose and always had been. Two rings of petals, each one pointed like a flame, and a dotted circle at the centre where the bulb hung down. The lodger told me that if you drew a ring of petals slowly enough, you could start anywhere and still come round to the same place, and that this was the whole secret of the thing. I didn't ask what she meant. I was busy looking at the damp.

On the last night of her stay the drip fell onto the open page while she was drawing, and she laughed and let it dry into the paper. In the morning the sketch had a small dark teardrop hanging below the bottom petal, and she said it was the best part of the drawing and she was keeping it that way. She left on the early train with her case knocking against her knee. I went up to the back bedroom with the bucket and stood under the rose for a long time, counting the drops that came down past the dotted circle, one, then another, and not one of them looked like it was going to stop.