Two matching blue circle tattoos with black vertical bars and blue wavy lines, one on each inner forearm.

Matching blue circle emblems on two forearms

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two near-identical tattoos sit on the inner forearms of two people, each a blue outlined circle enclosing three bold black vertical bars with blue wavy lines behind them. The solid, even linework and flat fills give the emblem a logo-like appearance against the pale skin. The photograph is taken at a close angle with a soft blanket in the background.

Forearm Circle Bar Wave Emblem Matching pair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tide had already turned through the sound when Nell found the bow line coiled the wrong way on the slipway, the way Dessy always left things when she was in a hurry to be right. Behind them the harbour hut showed one yellow lamp. Ahead, past the bar, the water was the colour of wet slate and smelled of diesel and weed.

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The boat was the Marigold, a clinker-built skiff their grandfather had rowed across to the island every Sunday until his knees gave out. He had painted a blue ring on her transom with three black bars inside it and a row of wave lines beneath, so the island children could spot her coming. When they turned eighteen, the two of them walked into the shop on Quay Street and had the same mark inked onto their arms, and their mother did not speak to either of them until Christmas.

The wind came round from the north-west faster than the forecast had promised. The outboard coughed and died halfway over the bar. Dessy swore, Nell threw her the oars, and for a while there was only the knock of the rowlocks and the two of them counting strokes out loud, one bar, two bars, three, the way the old man had taught them to keep time with the swell.

They reached the island steps just as the rain came in sideways. Nell tied off properly, twice round the iron ring, then looked back at the water they had crossed. "He'd have docked her with one hand," Dessy said. "Made it look easy." Nell lifted her arm to the lamplight, the blue ring pale with rain, and said nothing, because the counting had been the only thing either of them remembered to do right.