Small black fine line peace symbol tattoo on the inner wrist, shown beside pale mint nails and a green patterned fabric.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small peace symbol tattoo on a wrist

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small black peace symbol sits inside a thin outlined circle on the inner wrist of a hand resting on a green patterned fabric. The linework is clean and solid with no visible shading. The photograph is taken close up and square, with the wrist placed slightly off centre and the hand and nails in the left of the frame.

Fine line Other Peace symbol Circle Wrist Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dad said the circle was for the pit wheel, and Mam said it was nothing of the sort, just a sign some American students had painted on their vans, and that ended supper talk for a week. We lived at the bottom of Cwm Ddu, where the colliery headgear stood over the terraces like a patient man waiting to be paid. In the spring of 1984 the whole valley ran on picket rotas and tinned soup, and nobody had time to ask what anything meant.

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My cousin Eira drew it on the back of a bread wrapper with a ballpoint, three slim arms inside a ring, and pinned it to the coal-shed door where the lads could see it coming up from the lodge. Nobody argued with it. The constable from Merthyr walked past it twice a day and never once touched it, which Dad said was the only sensible thing the force had done all year.

In July the lodge shut and the lamps went out at the top of the hill. Eira went to work at the bakery in Aberdare and came home with flour to her elbows, and she said the men stood at the gates singing the same three hymns over and over, because singing kept the cold out better than the fire did. The bread wrapper had gone soft and grey by then, but the ring was still there, pressed into the wood where the drawing pin had been.

When the strike ended in March, Dad went back down on the first shift that would have him. One night he came up with coal dust in every crease and told us the lads had scratched a small circle into the soot of the lamp-room wall, one for every man who had walked out. He said it was just something to pass the time. I never asked him who had started it, because I already knew it was Eira, and she was never going to say.