Black and grey fine line tattoo of a small cloud with hanging moon, stars and dots on the lower leg, above the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cloud with hanging moon and stars on a calf

Fine line · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a cloud with a crescent moon, three small stars and a dot hanging from it on thin dangling strings. The linework is fine and the cloud is lightly shaded, with the rest of the design in solid black lines. The photograph is black and white, showing the lower leg against a plain wall with dark jeans rolled at the top.

Fine line Calf Cloud Moon Star Dot

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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 cloud went up first, because the cloud is the only piece that has to hold its shape. I cut it from grey card at the back of the bakery at ten to four, while the oven was still ticking as it cooled from the first bake, and I pinned it to the beam above the proving racks with a drawing pin that Mrs Okafor had left in the flour bin years ago. Nobody asked for it. The night lads swear the dough rises better when something overhead is keeping watch, and I have never once argued with the lads at four in the morning.

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The moon came next, a crescent I'd bent from a coat hanger wire and wrapped in tinfoil, hung on fishing line that caught the light from the bread lamp and threw it across the ceiling in small restless shapes. Then the stars. Three of them, cut from the lids of old sugar tins, and a plain brass button for the dot, which I told Dev was Venus. He told me Venus was a planet and not a button, so we settled on the button being a very small moon that had gone astray.

By half past five the stars were turning slowly in the warm air from the ovens, and the window at the front had begun to go the colour of weak tea. Dev swept the floor and stopped at the door, looking up. He didn't say anything. He just took the first tray of rolls from my hands and carried them out to the counter, and the light came up over the car park while the little moon went on turning above us, on its thread, as if it had somewhere to be.