Black and grey dotwork tattoo of a pine tree and mountains inside a dotted diamond and solid triangle, on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pine tree and mountains on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single tall pine tree stands in front of a range of mountains, enclosed by a solid triangle and a thin dotted diamond outline. The tree and mountain shading is built from stippled dots, with denser dots toward the base and lighter dots near the top. The tattoo is in black and grey on pale skin, with a dark sleeve and stickered wall visible in the background.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Pine tree Mountain Triangle Diamond

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fog came off the Skerry at four bells, thick as wet wool, and the Kittiwake's skipper wanted the rest of the fleet to hold their course. Agnes Pirie stood at the wheelhouse window and found the Standing Man by feel before she could see it. One pine on the ridge above Skellan Bay, the only tree for six miles of bare rock, and every crew in the harbour knew it the way a child knows a parent's voice.

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Her father had taught her the bearing when she was nine, sitting on an upturned creel with a biro and the back of a fag packet. Tree dead on the notch between the two peaks, he said, and you're home. He had drawn it again and again in the margins of his logbook: a solid triangle for the bearing, a dotted diamond for the shoals they never trusted, and the tree at the centre, shaded with hundreds of small points of ink so it looked more like weather than wood.

The radio crackled with Davie on the Brightwater asking where the bay had got to. Agnes keyed the mic and said nothing for a while. She held the engine at slow ahead and let the wind tear a gap in the grey, and there it was, dark and narrow, sitting above the mountains where it had always been. She called the bearing once, steady, the way her father would have, and heard the other boats answer one by one out of the murk.

Ashore that night she bought a tin of mints from the shop by the slip and put the logbook back in the drawer beside his chewed-flat pen. She left the wheelhouse lamp burning for the last boat and counted the hulls coming in, all eleven, before she let herself sleep.