Two black line drawings of hamsa hands filled with dotwork and fine line mandala patterns on a white background, shown as tattoo flash without a body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two ornate hamsa hand designs

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows two hamsa hand designs side by side, each outlined with a double border and filled with symmetrical motifs such as eyes, teardrops, petals, stars and dotted rings. The linework is crisp and even, with stippled dots adding shading and texture in the palms and fingers. The drawings are in black ink on a plain white background with generous space around each design.

Dotwork Fine line Hamsa Hand Mandala Eye Paisley Dot Ornament Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You notice the hands first because somebody has been careful with them. It is the second week of the damp, and the stairwell in Fenwick House smells of bleach and wet coats. On the landing between the ninth and tenth floors, two open palms have been inked onto the breeze-block wall in black fineliner, one facing left and one facing right, as if they had been pressed there and lifted away again. Each is crowded with eyes, teardrops, petals and rings of dots, and each has its border drawn twice so it looks like a glove.

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Mrs Adeyemi from flat 10C tells you who drew them. Her grandson Kwame was nine and bored, and he took the pen his teacher had confiscated and spent a whole Sunday on them while the lift was out. "Keep the eyes open," he told her, "and nothing gets in." She laughed at him then. She has not laughed about the lift since, because it has been broken since August and she is on the tenth floor with two bags of shopping and a bad hip.

The council painter comes on Thursday with a roller and a tin of magnolia. You help him shift the buckets, and you watch him cut in around the first hand, neat and quick, and you think he will miss the dots. He does not miss them. He stops, leans in, rubs one stipple with his thumb, and then he rolls straight over the whole thing anyway.

Two days later the paint has dried flat and pale. In the right light, though, from the bottom step, you can still see every hand, pricked through the magnolia like a row of tiny holes. Mrs Adeyemi climbs past without looking at the wall. You look for her, then at the wall, and you start counting the dots, and you keep counting.