Black and grey mandala-style flower tattoo with fine detailed linework on the centre of a woman's chest, worn under an open knitted cardigan.

Mandala-style flower tattoo on the chest

Geometric · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A symmetrical mandala-style flower with layered petals and a dotted centre sits on the centre of the chest, with the upper edge of the cardigan framing it. The design is drawn in dark, even outlines with fine inner detailing and no shading, so the petals read as clean line work against the skin. The image is black and white, and two hands with pale nails rest at the bottom of the frame.

Geometric Botanical Chest Mandala Flower Lotus Geometric pattern Petal

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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

Sit down, then, and keep your hat on, because the sun out here doesn't care who asks it politely. You've heard of the Dry Mile? Good. Then you'll know the surveyors who came out from Carrow with their chains and measuring wheels, and how every one of them lost his nerve by the third day.

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Not Hollis Venn. He carried a drawing folded in oilcloth, given to him by a woman called Bessie Tarrant who kept the water stall at the last station before the flats. She had never walked the road herself. She drew it from what her grandmother told her: eight points spreading out like the petals of a flower, each one a place where the ground held water a little longer than anywhere else. In the centre sat a small dotted ring, the spring that never failed. Between the petals she'd traced fine lines, like veins, that bent with the wind.

Venn followed those veins for nine days. Twice they led him into dunes that had no business being there, and twice he cursed her and turned back, and twice he woke to find the dunes had shifted clean off the route. On the ninth day his canteen was empty and his mule had lain down in the sand. He sat with the oilcloth open on his knees and pressed a finger to the dotted centre, because there was nothing else left to press. The ground under his finger was cool.

They dug there at dawn and found a seep of brackish water no bigger than a saucer. Venn lived. When he came back to Carrow he told Bessie the road had been drawn by a woman who'd never seen it. She only said her grandmother hadn't seen it either. Go on now, the light's turning, and mind the third post. It's the one still leaning toward her.