Watercolour-style tattoo of an eye with a purple iris and long lashes, surrounded by teal, yellow and green splashes, on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Watercolour eye on the inner wrist

Forearm · Colour · Photo

A stylised eye sits at the centre of the image, with a purple iris, a dark pupil with a small highlight, sketched black lashes and a thin lower lid line. Soft, bleeding washes of teal, blue, yellow and green surround the eye, with small splatters of colour spreading across the skin. The tattoo is shown close up on a pale inner wrist against a light grey wooden background.

Forearm Eye Iris Eyelashes Splash Watercolour

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fog came in off the Minch on the third day of October and sat on Skerra for nine days. On the tenth, when the boats had stopped asking to go out, Isla Brodie walked down to the shingle with a cup of seawater and her grandmother's blue-handled knife, because her father was still somewhere past the Stacks and nobody else on the island would say aloud what she meant to do.

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The old women had a saying that the sea never took anything for nothing. It wanted a colour in return, the one you saw the world in most. Isla had always thought hers was grey, the grey of the net shed walls and the sky over the harbour. She tipped the seawater into the cup, held it up to the place where the fog was thinnest, and found she could not remember the grey at all.

She walked into the fog with the cup empty in her hand. Everything went soft at the edges, then bled into colour: teal over the water, yellow where the Stacks broke the surface, green where the kelp turned under the tide. Her new sight was violet at its centre, deep as the inside of a mussel shell. She followed a green thread of kelp light until an oar knocked against a rock, and then a voice she knew swore in Gaelic at the rock.

Her father stepped onto the shingle at dawn with salt in his beard and asked what she had been staring at all night. Isla looked out at the harbour, every edge running into the next, and told him she had given the sea her grey and it had given her something to keep an eye on.