Two people in pink camisoles show matching small black fine line swallow tattoos on the upper chest, one on each side.

Matching fine line swallow tattoos on the chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

Two people stand side by side in pink camisoles, with their faces out of frame, and each shows a small swallow in flying pose on the upper chest near the side of the breast. The swallow is drawn in thin, single black outlines with no shading or fill. The image is warm in tone, and the pale pink fabric and skin tones dominate the composition.

Fine line Chest Swallow Bird

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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

The swallows came back to Hollin Farm the same week the apple blossom opened, as they always had, and old Mab Corrigan said that was how you knew the summer had decided to be kind. She kept the walled garden below the mill race, and every spring she sat on the bench by the sundial and counted birds through the open gate: one, two, a pair that lodged in the eaves of the potting shed.

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Her granddaughters, Ada and Tilly, had been raised in that garden and could not be parted from it. When Ada went north to the spinning towns, she took a red thread from the gate latch and promised to tie it to the first swallow she saw there. Tilly stayed to mind the bees and the bench. Each spring after, a swallow came over the wall with a scrap of red thread on its leg, and Tilly would laugh and say Ada was still walking too far to write.

One spring no swallow came. Tilly waited through the blossom and the hay cutting, and then through the first frosts, and she began to think the birds had found somewhere better. On the last evening of summer she heard a wing against the potting shed, and a single swallow dropped to the gravel with a thread of grey wool knotted at its throat, the kind the mill used. Beneath it, folded tight, was a letter. Ada had sent it from a port the bird had flown to and back, and the swallow had not once stopped, not even in the cold.

Tilly read the letter by the sundial, then tied her reply to the grey thread and let the bird go. It rose over the wall, turned twice above the apple trees, and set off south with its wings held low and steady, as if it had been carrying news all its life and meant to keep at it.