Black and grey fine line geometric tattoo of overlapping circles and vertical lines with arrow-like points on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Overlapping circles and lines on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows several overlapping circles stacked down the forearm, crossed by thin vertical lines that end in pointed, arrow-like shapes near the wrist. The linework is fine and partly dotted, with the circles drawn as dotted outlines and the lines as single strokes. The image is black and grey, shot in close, soft focus against a dark chair and a white sleeve.

Fine line Geometric Dotwork Forearm Circle Line Arrow Triangle Geometric shape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every spring the wind found the one cracked pane on the stairwell of Calder House, and every spring old Mr Ferris climbed the fourteen flights with a pair of brass compasses in his coat. He never said what he measured. The children on the ground floor said he was counting the steps to heaven, and the caretaker said he was simply mad about circles.

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One April a girl called Tamsin came up after him, because her mother had locked her out and the stairs were warmer than the bench by the bins. She found him on the roof, drawing rings on the wet concrete with a stub of chalk, each one a little larger than the last and each one touching the next. "You're building a lift for the wind," she said. He told her a circle never ends where you think it will, and that the trick was to know where the arrows went. He pointed the compasses down past the parapet, to the line the bin lorry took every Tuesday, and to the bus shelter beyond it.

He pressed the brass points into her hand and told her to draw one ring for every floor her family had ever lived on. She did it badly, by torchlight, with her tongue between her teeth. When she finished there were seven rings, and from the last one a single thin line ran down the building's face, past the windows of strangers, all the way to the tarmac.

By morning the rain had washed the chalk away, but Tamsin walked down the line anyway, and at the end of it, under the shelter, her mother was sitting with two carrier bags and a key she had been trying not to use.