Black and white photo of a greyscale realistic moon tattoo on the upper arm, with a line of fine script on the forearm.

Moon tattoo on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a person in a cropped black top and jeans, showing a full moon tattoo on the upper arm. The moon is shaded in greys with soft highlights and surface detail. A line of fine script runs down the opposite forearm near the wrist.

Realism Fine line Upper arm Forearm Moon Script Quote

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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

You have the ladder against the ballroom dome at half past eleven, the last waltz still crackling through the speaker below, and a tin of grey paint you have mixed three times because the first two looked like dishwater. Dorothy from the cloakroom holds the bottom rung and tells you the moon over the Marlow Palais was never that big, not even in 1951. You tell her it will be as big as you want it to be, and she laughs and says that is exactly what Stan used to say.

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The plaster is cracked in a ring where the old chandelier hung for thirty years, so you work around it. You lay down the dark seas first, dabbing with a sponge until they look like thumbprints on a windowpane, then the craters, each one a small pressed circle with a shadow on its lower edge. The band packed up hours ago. Somebody has left a cigarette packet on the piano lid and a single glove on the stage steps, and the floor below is still smelling of Brylcreem and spilt lemonade.

Stan's note turns up in the lost property tin, folded small and tucked under a dance card. Paint the light where the door is, it says, so the ones coming in see it first. You climb down, cross the dance floor, and look back up. The moon is half lit, silver along the edge nearest the entrance, deep grey where the shadow falls away.

When you switch off the lamps, the only light left is the streetlamp through the tall windows. It lands on the dome, and the painted moon catches it and holds it, a little brighter than the plaster around it, as though it has been waiting all night for someone to notice.