Black fine line drawing of the Sagittarius zodiac symbol, an arrow with a curled crossbar, on a plain white background, shown as a tattoo design with no body part visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sagittarius zodiac symbol design

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A single black line drawing of the Sagittarius zodiac symbol, an arrow pointing up and to the right with a curled crossbar, centred on a plain white background. The strokes are thin and tapered, with a slight brush-like variation in weight at the arrowhead and the curl. The image is a clean, high-contrast design with no shading or colour.

Fine line Zodiac symbol Arrow Astrology

Find an artist for this

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

You take the paint tin off the tailgate before the sun has cleared the ridge, because Mr Abernethy says the arrows on the Coyote Wash road are fading and the lorries from the mine will be out by seven. The stencil is cut from an old feed sack, a curled bar and a shaft, and you have done forty of them since March. Each one points north-east, towards Varley Crossing, where the post office still takes letters even though nobody has lived there since the cannery closed.

Keep reading

The woman in the blue Land Cruiser pulls up beside you on the third day and asks which way the town is. You tell her to follow the arrows. She laughs, not unkindly, and says the last sign she followed ended at a dry lake with a bicycle in it. You have heard that story before, from Abernethy, who insists the bicycle belonged to his brother. You do not know whether to believe him, but you know the arrows are never wrong, because you painted every one of them, and each was aimed at a place you once thought worth reaching.

By noon the wind has come up off the flats and the paint on the fourteenth post has run in the heat, so the shaft looks like it is bending back towards the road. You stand in its shadow and pour water over your wrist. The Cruiser has gone, and the sound of its engine with it, and you realise the arrow you were proudest of points exactly at the spot where you stopped.

You turn the stencil over, dip the brush, and start again, shorter this time, so the curl sits tight against the bar like a hand closing around something small. It is not a message for anyone else. It is the way back, painted for the one traveller who keeps driving this road in circles, which is you.