Black and white photo of a small fine line Greek word tattoo, χάρις, on the upper arm below a grey sleeve.

Small Greek word tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a small lowercase Greek word, χάρις, set in thin black linework on the upper arm. The sleeve of a light grey top covers the shoulder, and the background is plain and pale. The image is in black and white, with soft lighting that keeps the focus on the small lettering.

Fine line Lettering Upper arm Word Script

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

The ferry was still swinging into the harbour at Syros when Eleni Kostas found the slip of paper under the bread bin. Dimitris, the chef, was shouting about the lamb, the purser was shouting about the tickets, and somewhere below deck the engines sounded like a man clearing his throat. She pulled the bin out to get at the spilled flour and there it was, folded into a square no bigger than a stamp and weighted with a single coin.

Keep reading

She knew the hand. Stavros, the old deckhand with the burnt forearms, had eaten his boiled egg at the end of the steel counter every morning for eleven years and never said more than good morning. Inside the paper was one word in pencil, pressed hard enough to dent the page: χάρις. She had to ask the purser's boy what it meant. Grace, he said, shrugging, or favour, or thanks, depending on who you asked and how much they owed you.

Stavros had been let go at dawn for a reason nobody on the crew would say out loud. Eleni folded the paper, unfolded it, then pressed it flat under the ticket rail where the order slips curled in the steam. She thought of the morning he had carried a scalded tray of her mother's pastries across the wet deck without spilling one, and how she had never once thanked him for it.

When the lamb went out she pinned a fresh slip to the rail and wrote the word beneath the table number, small and careful. Then she wrapped two honey pastries in wax paper, walked to the stern where the gulls rode the wake, and set them on the bench where he used to sit. The wind lifted the paper and carried it out over the water, and she watched it go until she could no longer tell it from the foam.