Black and white photo of a fine line tattoo of stacked wave lines across the inner wrist and forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stacked wave lines on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a tattoo of many stacked, undulating lines running across the inner wrist. The single black lines form peaks and troughs that rise and fall in a repeating pattern, with no shading or fill. The plain background and soft focus keep attention on the design.

Fine line Forearm Wave Line Peak 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

Dear Tom,

Keep reading

The chart recorder came back from the mainland on Tuesday wrapped in two blankets and a sheet of Mum's old tablecloth, and I have been sitting with it ever since in the north tower, where the roof left us years ago and the wind comes straight through the arrow slits. You will say I should have posted you the pages. I could not. Each sheet is a stack of pale grey traces, one above the other like the ridges of a hill seen from the sea, and every few minutes the whole stack lifts at once, then settles.

Dad always said the thing at the centre was a star that had burned down to a stone the size of a city and was spinning itself dizzy. He was pleased by that. I never believed him until I saw the lines line up on the paper the same way each time, a little rise then a little rise, as if something far off was clearing its throat in a language nobody had taught it.

The gardeners think I have gone soft. Mr Eddowes brought soup up on Thursday and found me asleep with my cheek on the table and ink on my wrist, and he asked whether I was eating. I told him the sky had been talking and I had been taking notes.

I have marked tonight's peaks with a red pencil and left the sheets pinned under the broken lintel where the rain cannot get them. If the pattern repeats at the same interval next week, I will know it is not weather and not the mainland's aerials. Come up before the frost, and bring the good torch. Some of the troughs are very deep and I would like you to see them with me.

Yours, Ellen