Silver metallic chevron and triangle temporary tattoos with turquoise accents run across a wrist and fingers, worn with crystal and silver rings.

Metallic silver chevron temporary tattoos on hand

Geometric · Hand · Colour · Photo

A close photograph of a hand and wrist with metallic silver temporary tattoos of stacked chevrons, triangles and small turquoise diamonds. The designs are simple, flat and repeated in rows, with one column running down the middle finger and a band across the wrist. The warm, sandy background and the crystal and silver rings give the image a bright, summery feel.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Ruth,

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The rain has finally lifted from the lower terraces, so Brother Anselm and I went down to the wadi to repaint the marker stones before the pilgrims arrive for the feast. You will laugh, but we used the silver paint the carrier brought up in spring, the stuff sold in a tin with a lighthouse on the lid. Anselm says the old chevrons were red ochre and have worn to nothing, and that a path without marks is only a rumour of a path.

By noon the stones were gleaming like coins at the bottom of a well. A girl from the village, Yusra, who keeps goats on the far slope, walked down to watch and asked whether the paint would wash off. Anselm told her it would last until the first proper storm, which is the same promise we make about everything here. She held out her wrist and I dabbed three chevrons onto it with a sable brush, and she turned it so the sun caught them and threw a flash onto the rocks that made her laugh.

She said the marks were for the goats, so they would know which gully led home. I did not argue. Anselm pressed a small turquoise diamond into the centre of each chevron with the tip of a nail, the way he sets glass in the reliquary lids, and told her that a sign is only as good as the person reading it. By evening the paint had dried to a hard shine and the whole wadi looked as though someone had laid a silver thread down the hill.

I am writing this on the refectory steps with my sleeve pushed up. Yusra's chevrons have already rubbed onto my own hand, and I find I do not mind. Come in April and I will show you the cairns. Bring the good brushes, and do not tell the abbot about the lighthouse tin.

Your loving sister, Clare

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