Fine line dotwork tattoo of a vertical line of dots, triangles and a lotus flower on the centre of the chest, between a white lace bra.

Vertical lotus and dot line on the sternum

Dotwork · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical column of small dots, outlined triangles and a solid-filled lotus flower runs down the centre of the chest, ending just above a white lace bra band. The linework is fine and the dots are evenly spaced, with the lotus and lower solid triangle using small areas of filled black ink. The soft pink skin tone and plain background keep the focus on the central design.

Dotwork Fine line Botanical Chest Lotus Triangle Dot Line Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last of the brass pins went into the kerb at twenty past two, and Ruth Okafor stood back under the sodium lamp to check the line. Nine dots, a triangle, a dot, a triangle, and at the centre the stone flower the old pump house had carried on its gate before the council painted it grey. From the bridge the markers ran straight down to the towpath, as if someone had stitched the street.

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Her grandfather had worked the lock at the foot of Calder Street. He used to say the lotus was for water that rose and never came in, the triangles were the levels, and the dots were the nights he counted before the boats came back. She had never believed a word of it. She had only come out tonight because the survey sheet said the culvert under the path had dropped four inches, and somebody had to say where.

The pins were honest. They gave her the line, the fall and the depth of the bad ground. The trouble came at the last dot, which sat in the gutter outside a shuttered chandlery. When she knelt to set it, the wet brick under her palm was warm, as if something beneath had been breathing. She sat back on her heels and listened to the canal shift against its wall.

She kept the last pin in her coat pocket. In the morning the sheet would show eleven markers and a gap, and the foreman would ask why, and she would say the ground had told her to wait. He would laugh. She tipped her head towards the grey gate across the water, where the stone flower still floated above the black line of the lock, and said good night to it.