Black and white photo of a small fine line eye tattoo with lashes on the inner wrist of a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small eye tattoo on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small eye with a round iris and pupil is drawn in fine black linework, with short lash marks above and below. It sits on the inner wrist, which is photographed in black and white against dark fabric. The composition is close and centred on the tattoo, with the hand partly visible at the bottom of the frame.

Fine line Forearm Eye Eyelashes Outline

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

At ten past three the corridor lights dim to their night setting, and you hear the lift before you see it. Bay Four has been quiet since the man in bed two stopped asking for his shoes. Above the nurses' station someone has pinned a drawing a boy from the paediatric wing left behind on Tuesday: one eye, round as a coin, its lashes spiking out above and below like the rays on a child's sun. Nobody has had the heart to take it down.

Keep reading

You wheel the obs trolley towards bay four and check the clipboard against the monitor. Oxygen holding. Pressure a little low, which you note without panic, because panic on nights wakes everyone. Mrs Achterberg in bed six has been awake since midnight, watching the ceiling tiles as if they might be counting her. You sit on the edge of the chair and tell her the ward is keeping an eye on her. She asks who keeps an eye on the nurses. You laugh, and she almost does.

At four the porter arrives with the tea urn and a story about a dog that got into the linen store. You listen with half your attention. The other half keeps returning to the drawing above the desk, the single eye that seems, from this angle, to be looking straight down the corridor towards the doors. You realise you have been checking it all night, the way you check a drip.

At half past six the day staff come in shaking rain from their coats. You hand over the bed numbers and the one worry about bed two. Walking to the lift, you glance up once more. The eye is still looking, and it will not be relieved until someone comes to take the watch.