Black and grey fine line geometric tattoo of a faceted outline shape on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small geometric outline on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small outline tattoo of an angular, faceted shape made of straight black lines, resembling a stylised animal head or folded form. The linework is thin and even, and the design sits near the centre of a close-up photograph of a pale inner forearm. The black and grey monochrome photo has a plain, dark background that keeps focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Geometric shape Triangle Outline Animal head

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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 shutter of the chandlery sticks in wet weather, so you learn to lift it with your hip before you turn the key. Gull Lane is still dark at six. Your uncle has left the chart table covered in offcuts of heavy card, and you are supposed to be cutting them to size for the tide tables, not folding them into things.

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But the card has a grain, and when you fold along it the corners come up sharp as a fox's ears. Three folds, one tuck, and the thing sits on the table looking back at you with a single flat eye. Mrs Tregenza from the ferry office swears her grandfather made them for the fishermen's children, each one set to face the wind the way a bow does. She says the trick is to fold without looking, so the paper decides.

You try it on the morning the Maren Lily fails to come in past the bar. Your hands shake, so you fold with your eyes shut, and when you open them the card has become a head of angled planes with three points and no mouth. You set it on the windowsill facing the water. Outside, the fog thins from the harbour mouth in a clean diagonal, and a single light blinks across the channel in exactly the rhythm the paper showed you.

By noon the Maren Lily is tied up at the quay and her crew are shouting about the bar. Nobody asks about the card. Your uncle picks it up, turns it once in his fingers, and sets it back facing the sea. 'Keep it pointing that way,' he says, and you do, every morning after, until the card goes soft and grey as the harbour wall.