Black tattoo of snow-capped mountains under a crescent moon and stars, with horizontal water lines beneath, shaded with dotwork on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mountains, crescent moon and stars on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo shows two peaked mountains with dotwork shading, a crescent moon, eight-point stars and scattered dots in the sky above. Below the peaks, a set of horizontal lines suggests water, and the solid black tree-like shapes at the base of the mountains add contrast. The design is centred on the skin with a plain light background.

Dotwork Blackwork Forearm Mountain Moon Crescent moon Star Dot Water Landscape Night sky

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Morag, the moon has gone thin again, the way you like it, a paring someone has left on the sill of the sky. I sat out on the step after the second watch with my tea going cold and counted stars over the Corran ridge until the dots started to swim. I could name eleven of them, and the rest I made up for you. The big sharp one with eight arms is Auntie Jean's brooch, so you can have that one.

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The mountains are sharper from here than they ever were from the ferry. Two peaks, snow still on the north faces, and under them the black of the pines runs down to the water like a row of folk waiting in a queue they do not want to be in. The sound was flat as a plate this afternoon. The men from the boat say it will turn by Sunday, so I have written it on the wall beside the log book, along with the tide times and the word RAIN in capitals, because Mr Gillies never believes me when I tell him.

I know you think I should come back to the mainland for the winter. I will, I promise you that. But the lamp needs someone who can read the water, and the water here has taught me to read lines. Look at the ripples under the peaks when the wind drops: four lines, then five, then the long one that means the current is pulling west. I have started drawing them on the back of every envelope. Nobody else will read my letters the way you do.

When you come out on the boat in May, bring the good pencils. I want to show you where the moon sits when it is nearly gone. It hangs just over the shoulder of the far peak, and for one night it looks as if it is being carried home. Your loving father, Alasdair