Black and grey dotwork tattoo of a moon, stars, mountains and pine trees inside a circle on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Moon, mountains and pines in a circle on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A circular tattoo shows a crescent moon and scattered stars in a dark dotted sky, with angular mountains and a row of pine trees at the bottom. The design is built from stippled dots for shading and sky, with cleaner solid lines for the mountain edges and tree shapes. The black and grey tattoo sits centred on a pale forearm against a dark top and a blurred room background.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Moon Star Mountain Pine tree Circle Night sky Landscape

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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

No, you may not touch the lens, it cost more than this whole valley. Hush now and listen, because I'll only tell this once before the lamp gutters.

Keep reading

Orla lived below the ridge where the old almanac said the mountains stood, though nobody had seen them since the cloud came down. Her grandmother had left her a book with a picture of a round sky in it, black as a stove blacking, with little white marks scattered through it like salt. The grandmother said those were stars. Orla had never seen one. So each morning she took a darning needle and pricked dots into a scrap of paper, pricking the dark until it spoke to her, and she carried the best of them up the slope inside her coat.

The pines were still standing at the top of Carn Dubh, three of them and then a fourth, black and thin as pen strokes against the grey. She sat under them through the long cold afternoon. Nothing happened. Her feet went numb and the paper kept trying to blow away. Then a seam opened in the cloud over the far peaks, and out came a moon no wider than a fingernail, hanging over the ridge as if someone had hung it there to dry.

She laughed at herself, because the moon looked exactly like the picture in the book, only colder and far more real, and it was not the picture that had brought it. Dusk came down. Stars pricked through the thinning dark one at a time, faster than she could count them. She took out the needle anyway and pricked the last one on her scrap, then folded it into her pocket. Go to bed now. And remember, the dark is what lets the little lights show.