Close view of two hands with a tiny fine line tattoo of a circle with a curved stroke on the side of one finger, in black ink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small fine line circle on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are held together against a dark background, with the near finger showing a very small tattoo. The tattoo is a thin black outline of a circle with a curved stroke rising from its top. The soft, even lighting and the black and cream rug in the lower part of the frame keep the focus on the small mark.

Fine line Hand Circle Curved line Symbol

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

Rain again on Saturday, so the bulb stall under the iron awning did what it always did and sold nothing until the church bell struck eleven. Dad always said the rain was good for business because people came in wanting something to look at while they waited. I sat on an upturned crate with the ledger on my knee and watched Mrs Okonedo at the next pitch wrap a dozen gladioli in brown paper, the drips running off her tarp in one wobbling thread.

Keep reading

The seed tin was the thing I worried about. Dad had left it to me with a note in his square capitals: SELL THE CHAMOMILE FIRST, KEEP THE RING-PEA FOR THE AUTUMN STALL. I hadn't known what ring-pea was until Tuesday, when I found a packet at the bottom, a paper label with a small round mark on it and a fine line rising from the top like a question nobody had answered yet. I'd taken it for a price tag. It was the only seed he'd written in pencil, pressing so hard the lead had torn the paper.

At half past two a boy in a yellow cagoule asked whether ring-pea would grow in a window box in Leeds. I said I didn't know. Then I told him the truth, which was that I had planted one in the back yard the spring before Dad went into hospital, and it had come up the wrong way round, curling back on itself as if it were listening for something. He laughed and bought two packets of chamomile instead.

I packed up at four with the tin in my coat pocket, the rain thinning to a grey mist over the car park. I'm going to sow the ring-pea in the bed under the kitchen window on Monday, pencil ready, and see which way it turns. Mrs Okonedo waved from under her tarp, and I waved back with the tin held high, the way Dad used to, so she'd know I'd kept it dry.