Close photograph of a black geometric tattoo of parallel lines and small dots on the inner wrist and forearm, in a fine line style.

Parallel line geometric mark on the wrist

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black tattoo of short parallel lines forms a stepped, angled pattern running from the wrist towards the forearm, with a few small dots at the edges. The lines are crisp and evenly spaced, with a mix of vertical, diagonal and horizontal strokes. The skin is a warm tone and the photo is taken in a car interior with dim light.

Geometric Forearm Line Stripe Dot Abstract pattern

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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

Nobody at Brinklow & Sayer had hatched by hand for eleven years, so when the new floor manager asked me to shade the old gasworks drawings for the council, he thought he was being kind. He gave me the drafting lamp, a 2H pencil and a box of Rotring pens that still smelt of Indian ink. I told him I would have it done by Thursday.

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I worked late, after the cleaners had gone and the lamp was the only light on the fourth floor. Outside, Manchester was doing its usual wet hum under the bridge lamps. Hatching is patience: you lay parallel strokes at the same spacing, a hair apart, and the shadow comes up out of nothing. Every step on the staircase drawing needed its own angle, the light falling from the north-west the way it always had, and I kept my lines so even you could have ruled them with a straightedge. By two o'clock the stairs were in shadow and the building looked as if it had stood there a century.

On Thursday the floor manager came round, looked at the sheet for a long time, and asked why the shadows went the wrong way. I checked the sun path twice. It was right. He told me the council had already accepted the scan from the new software, which had no shadows at all, and that my sheet could go in the bin with the other paper.

I didn't bin it. I took it home, rolled it, and at the bottom, where the last stair met the margin, I found I had left one dot where the pen had rested too long. I still look at it on the bus, that one mark that was never meant to be there, and I think about the staircase that goes somewhere no one has scanned.