Mandala tattoo on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A radial mandala tattoo with petal-shaped sections, circular motifs and small dots covers the inner forearm near the wrist. It is rendered in black and grey with clean outlines and soft shading. A thin gold chain bracelet sits over the tattoo, and a gold hamsa hand pendant hangs from a chain across the back of the hand.

Geometric Forearm Mandala Circle 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, Gary, the urn's still hot and nobody leaves this hall until I've finished. You all remember Miss Halloran's brass compass, the one she kept in a biscuit tin behind the register. Spring of seventy-one, the term the river came up over the playing fields, a lad called Terry Flint sat at the back of 4B drawing with it on the inside cover of his exercise book, because he'd been told he couldn't draw a straight line to save his life.

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He never did draw a straight line. He drew rosettes. A circle inside a circle, then a ring of petals pushed out between them, then a second ring of little round eyes around the edge, each one filled with a dot so exact you could have set a clock by it. Miss Halloran took the book off him at dinner and kept it a fortnight. When she gave it back the cover was black with them, edge to edge, and she said nothing at all, which for Miss Halloran was a sermon.

Last month Terry rang me from a bus shelter in Ashby. His wife had finally let him into the loft, and he'd found the book under a box of Christmas tinsel. He read me the words Miss Halloran had written in red biro on the back page, under the last rosette. Start from the hole. Everything comes out of it. He'd pressed the compass pin straight through the paper that spring, and there it still was, a hole the size of a pea in the middle of every flower he ever drew.

So raise your glasses to Terry, who couldn't be here tonight because he's sorting his loft, and to Miss Halloran, who never once told us what she meant. Then go and find your own middle. Mine's the bit under the urn.