Close-up of a small black airplane silhouette tattoo on the inner wrist, in a fine line style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small airplane tattoo on the inner wrist

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small solid black airplane silhouette sits on the inner wrist of a light-skinned hand, which is raised in a loose fist against a plain white background. The tattoo is a simple outline-style icon with a filled body and no shading, and it is shown in black ink only. The composition is a soft, bright, centred close-up with a shadow of the hand cast on the wall to the left.

Fine line Other Airplane Silhouette Wrist Hand

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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

No, sit down first, the kettle's barely warm and I'm not telling this to a man standing in my hallway. There. The Harrow boy came off the Tuesday coach with one suitcase and a tin of pear drops, and he took the back attic, the one where the window sticks and you can see the lighthouse blink if you lie flat on the boards.

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He worked days out at the old aerodrome on the marsh, where they were still breaking up Lancasters for scrap. Evenings he sat on my back step with a stub of pencil and drew aeroplanes on the backs of the rent envelopes. Dozens of them, every one the same, wings out like a cross that had decided to go somewhere. I said, Danny, you'll run out of paper. He said the sky was the only paper he needed.

In the October gales a small plane came down in the dunes, nobody hurt, and the pilot walked up my steps soaked to the skin asking for a bed. Danny gave him his own room and slept in the chair by my range without a word of complaint. By morning the pilot had gone and so had the boy's good boots, and the only thing he left was a rent envelope on the table with one line on it: Back when the wind lets me.

He came back three summers later, brown as a conker and quieter. He stood in the kitchen doorway and turned his left wrist up under the light so I could see it. A tiny black aeroplane, no bigger than a fingernail, pointing straight out to sea. Then he laughed and said, Now I can't lose the way, Mrs Pennock, and he put the kettle on himself.