Small black fine line om symbol tattoo on the inner forearm near the wrist, shown in black and white while another hand holds the arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small om symbol on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small black om symbol is tattooed on the inner forearm near the wrist, with a dot above a looped curve and a tapering tail. The linework is thin and even, with solid black ink and no shading. The photograph is black and white, and another person's hand cradles the wrist from the left, with a blurred background.

Fine line Forearm Om symbol Hand Wrist

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

Gerry never let me paint a letter until I could hold the brush still for the length of a breath. We worked the back streets of Salford after the pubs shut, when the traffic thinned and the wet paint had the whole night to dry. He'd sit on an upturned crate with his tin of size and say the hand is only a rope the wrist ties to the eye, so mind the wrist.

Keep reading

The job that winter was a noodle bar on Chapel Street, its fascia gone grey and flaking. Gerry had lettered the original back in 1974 and he wanted the new one matching, down to the curl on the tail of the swash. I practised on offcuts of card under the lamp, dozens of strokes, each one a little more like a fish's tail and a little less like a wobble. Gerry watched me ruin the twelfth and said nothing. He just leaned over and took my wrist in his palm, the way you'd steady a dog's paw to pick out a splinter.

We finished at four. The dot went on last, a single bead of gold above the loop, and Gerry blew on it and sat back. He said a good line doesn't ask where it's going, it just goes, and the tail should taper the way a sigh does. Then he packed his crate, left me the brush, and walked off towards the first tram without looking back at the sign.

The bar owner photographed the fascia from across the road and sent the picture to Gerry, who couldn't work his phone, so I printed it and posted it through his door. I still have the brush. On nights when my hand won't settle, I hold my wrist the way he held mine, and the line comes out clean.