Fine line black tattoo of three overlapping pentagon outlines, rotated at different angles, on a person's calf.

Overlapping pentagon outlines on a calf

Fine line · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows three pentagons of different sizes, overlapping and rotated around a shared centre, drawn in thin single black outlines. The linework is fine and even, with no shading or fill, and the lines cross where the shapes intersect. The design sits centrally on a bare, lightly haired leg against a pale background, with a sneaker visible at the lower right.

Fine line Geometric Calf Geometric shape 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 frost has only lifted where the lane meets the yard, so you walk the long way round with the bucket of meal, counting hurdles under your breath the way your father taught you. One, two, three. The count comes out right every morning, and every morning you are faintly surprised by it.

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The hurdles came out of the barn in January, grey ash rails lashed at the corners with baling twine. Uncle Ray cut each one to five sides because the ground in the bottom field would not take a square, and he set them down at different turns so they overlapped like a dropped handful of cards. Your father said a pen should be whatever shape the land allows. The old stone trough sits in the middle where all three edges cross, and that is where the ewes gather when the wind comes off the tops.

The night the snow came sideways, you stood at the kitchen window with the lamp off and watched the lines of the pens show through the white, dark and thin, the way they look on a page before anyone has coloured them in. Something about it made you want to be out there. You pulled on your father's coat, took the torch and walked the perimeter, and found a lamb born in the crossing of two rails, steaming and furious, its mother nosing it toward the trough.

In the morning the snow had stopped and the yard was blank again. You crouched by the trough with a dry stick and drew the three pentagons in the frost, one overlapping the next, the lines crossing exactly where the rails had crossed. The ewes came over to look, then went back to their hay. You stayed a while longer, counting, and the number came out right.