Close-up photo of a black outline tattoo of a bow with a circular knot and tapered tails, on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Outlined bow tattoo on the inner wrist

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up photograph of a bow shape drawn in a bold black outline on pale skin, with a plain circle forming the knot and two looped wings and short angular tails. The linework is solid black with no shading, and the bow is set against dark hair and fabric on the left. The composition is tight, with the wrist filling the right side of the frame.

Other Bow Ribbon Circle Outline

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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 bundle comes across the counter at ten past six, wrapped in brown paper and tied with black ribbon, and you know before you touch it that someone took care over the bow. The knot is a plain round hump, the loops match, and the tails are notched at the ends so they won't fray. Beyond the glass the river is loud with rain. The man behind it shifts his weight and asks whether it's a gift, and you tell him it's a parcel, which is true enough.

Keep reading

The form asks for contents, and you write letters, personal. Procedure says you open anything that might hide something, so you pull on the thin blue gloves and lift the knot with a fingernail. Inside are envelopes with stamps from a country that no longer exists under that name, the paper soft as cloth, the addresses written in a hand that loops its capitals the way your aunt used to. Nothing to declare. You count twelve, and stop at the last one, which has never been posted.

You could stamp the slip and send the man on his way. Instead you take the ribbon and tie it back, slowly, the way the first hands did: pull the round knot tight, make two loops, let the tails drop with their little notches. The loops come out uneven. You undo it and start again. On the third try it looks right, and you realise you have been holding your breath, as if the knot might not hold.

You write cleared across the slip, sign it, and push the bundle back over the counter. The man lifts it, looks at the bow, and says it looks like somebody loved it. You don't answer. You watch him through the gate, then turn to the next queue, where another parcel is already waiting, tied in string that nobody has bothered to make pretty.