Close-up of a fine line white ink snowflake tattoo on the top of a bare foot, with a thin anklet and dark red toenails.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

White ink snowflake on the top of a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A bare foot rests on a glossy, crinkled plastic sheet, showing a small snowflake tattoo on the top of the foot. The snowflake is drawn in fine white ink with a symmetrical six-armed design and delicate branching details. The skin is lit evenly, and the anklet with charms and the dark red nail polish sit in the frame around the design.

Fine line Other Snowflake Foot Anklet Charm Nail polish

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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 Hannah, the first frost came in the night and I stood at the kitchen window until the glass went milky. Your father would have walked down to the jetty to check the mooring lines, but the lines are cut now and the boat is in Mallow's yard with its engine in pieces, so I have nothing to check but the kettle and the clock. The supply boat did not come on Tuesday. Mrs Penhallow says it will come Thursday if the swell drops, and I have decided to believe her because the alternative is the tinned peaches.

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I went through the box you left under the stairs. Under your school jumper I found the paper cutouts you made when you were seven, all those six-armed things you insisted were snowflakes even though nothing falls here but rain and gulls. You had cut each arm with the same care you gave your sums, folding and refolding until the scissors had nothing left to do. I pinned one to the back door. It turns a little when the draught comes under, which is the only thing turning in this house now.

Thursday came and the boat did not, but the post sack did, thrown up onto the rocks by a fisherman who had no business being that close. Your envelope was damp at one corner, and inside was a photograph of your foot with a tiny white snowflake inked on the top of it, bright against the shiny sheet you were lying on. You wrote that it is for the sea, so that every time you walk on the sand you will leave a little winter behind. I have kept the picture on the mantel beside the clock, and I have stopped pretending the clock is the only thing keeping time here.