Black and white photo of a small fine line airplane silhouette tattoo on a forearm, with a knitted cuff and an aircraft window behind it.

Small airplane silhouette on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small, solid black airplane silhouette sits on the skin, shown in side-on profile with swept wings and a tail. The linework is simple and clean, with the shape filled in and minimal shading across the skin. The photograph is black and white, taken indoors beside an aircraft window with a knitted cuff in the foreground.

Fine line Forearm Airplane Silhouette Travel

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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 officer at the passport desk stamped your page twice, because the first impression had smudged, and slid it back under the glass without looking up. Beyond him the hall was emptying into the grey light of a Tuesday that had not yet decided what kind of day it wanted to be. You kept your hand flat on the counter until the paper stopped trembling.

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Two hours later the cabin lights had dimmed to the colour of weak tea, and the man beside you had folded himself into sleep with his elbow against your ribs. You pressed your face to the window. Below, the lights of a town you could not name drew themselves into a grid, then slid away under the wing. On the seat pocket in front was the safety card, all those pictures of people calmly brace and calmly exit, as if calm were a thing the airline could issue with the blanket. You had not been calm since the fence at the last crossing, when your brother passed you a letter through the wire and told you to read it only once the lights came on.

The captain's voice came on, low and pleasant, to say the descent would begin shortly. You unfolded the letter on your knee. It was short. Your brother had drawn a plane on the back, a flat black shape with its wings swept back, the way children draw them, and beneath it he had written only: this one brings you home. You folded it along the old creases. Outside, a single aircraft was crossing the dark fields far below, its shadow sliding over the hedges ahead of it. You lifted your hand to the cold glass and matched its outline to the one you had carried all this way, wing for wing, until the runway lights rose up and took it from you.