Close-up of a large geometric snowflake tattoo in teal, blue and purple with white dot accents on the forearm, with a partial bird tattoo visible at the top right.

Teal and purple snowflake on forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A large snowflake or star-like design sits across the forearm, built from radiating pointed shapes with a pale centre. The points are filled with teal, blue and purple colour, with some shading and small white dots and red marker circles along the arms. A partly visible line drawing of a bird and a script or lettering piece appear at the upper right of the frame, and the background is dark with a white surface beneath the arm.

Geometric Forearm Snowflake Star Bird Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dorrit had been awake since four, and the galley porthole had grown a frost so thick she could no longer see the grey shape of the sea. She breathed on a patch of it with the heel of her hand and watched the breath freeze into a star, six arms, each one splitting into smaller ones like the veins of a leaf. Nobody aboard the Marguerite Lind had time for frost. The cook had time for it.

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Tobias Renn, the mate, came down the ladder stamping sleet from his boots and asked whether the porridge would be ready before the watch changed. She said it would. He asked what she was staring at. 'Nothing that wants fixing,' she said, and took the bread knife to the glass, scraping a clear circle the size of a saucer so the crew could see the ice field turning blue in the first light.

Through the hole she watched a little auk skate across a floe, unbothered, and thought of her sister in Tórshavn, who posted wool socks every December with a card stamped in silver. Dorrit rolled out the last of the flour, pressed a pastry cutter into the dough and lifted out a six-pointed star. She filled each point with blueberry from the tin, then a smear of lingonberry in the centre, the colours running into each other where the jam spread.

When she carried the tray up, the men were stamping and grinning around the mess table. Tobias took the first point, chewed it slowly and said nothing, which from him counted as praise. By the time the sun cleared the floes, the frost had crept back across the porthole, filling the clear circle she had made as if it had only been waiting to be asked.