Small black fine line tattoo of a triangle with a circle and vertical line on the inner forearm near the wrist, with the hand raised in a fist over grass.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small triangle and circle tattoo on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A clenched fist is raised above green grass, showing a small tattoo on the inner forearm near the wrist. The tattoo is a black triangle enclosing a circle with a short vertical line through its centre. The linework is thin and crisp, with minimal shading, and the strong green background contrasts with the dark ink.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Triangle Circle Line Symbol Hand Grass

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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

Old Maud the ferrywoman had three things she would not sell, and the whole fen knew them by their shapes. A ring of hammered tin, a length of tarred cord, and a flat black stone with a hole through its middle that she carried in her apron pocket like a sweet. Men offered her good money for the stone. Bishop's men offered more. She only closed her hand over it and told them the river had lent it to her and she was still paying it back.

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The summer her nephew Tam came to work the punt, he laughed at the tin ring and asked why a grown woman kept a bit of cord. She told him the cord was for tying up to the far post in flood, when the water came over the reeds and the lantern had gone out. The ring was for the night the bridge gave way at Sallow Dyke. He asked about the stone. She put it in his palm, folded his fingers over it, and said that was the only lesson she had left to give.

Tam crossed the Ouse in October with the stone in his fist and no lantern. The water stood up to the marker posts. He tied the cord to the far post as she had shown him, and the ring slid on his finger as he hauled, and he did not let go of the stone, not even when the punt tipped and the cold stole his breath. He came out on the bank at dawn with a hand he could not open for an hour.

When he finally did, the stone was warm and the hole in it was packed with river silt. He carried it back to Maud and set it on her table. She did not thank him. She took the cord from his shoulder, coiled it over her elbow, and asked whether he would take the punt out again tomorrow.