Back view of a woman in a white top with a small fine line geometric tattoo on her upper arm near the elbow, in black ink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small fine line tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman seen from behind wears a white short-sleeved top with a row of buttons down the back and has her hair pulled into a low bun. A small, thin-lined geometric tattoo in black ink sits on the outer upper arm near the elbow, showing a triangle with straight lines. The background is a blurred street scene, and the shallow focus keeps attention on the arm and top.

Fine line Geometric Upper arm Triangle Line Geometric shape

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

Sit nearer the stove, you, and mind the draught under the door. Your grandfather would have had the kettle on before I reached the stairs. Three lights, I told you, when you asked why the chart has that little inked triangle laid over the Skerry. Three lights on three headlands, Gannet Point, the Widow and Hollin Head, with sea between them so wide a ship could lose a whole night inside it.

Keep reading

In the winter of the great fog a surveyor came out on the supply boat, a thin woman with a leather case and a pencil behind her ear. She wouldn't take the bunk. She wanted the gallery at dusk, and a clear sky, which she never got. Every night she sat with her knees drawn up and ran straight lines from one lamp to the next, then from the next to the third, and back again, until the paper was crossed with nothing but angles. Old Tam said she was mad. I thought she was counting the only things out there that didn't move.

On the last evening the fog lifted all at once, like a sheet pulled off a bed. She stood, pointed at the place where her three lines met, and said that was where the rock was, the one that had taken the Marigold in thirty-one. There was nothing there but water, and that was the point. Three lights pinned down a danger nobody could see. She inked the spot on the chart, a small hard triangle, the same one your finger keeps tracing, and left on the morning tide without sending a letter.