T-shirts | KAFT

Flying Low
So now, imagination was a colorful machine floating in the sky.

Burning Tire
In the end, we were only a handful of people to celebrate our existence; and we had forgotten all the languages we've known.

Xuntos
Man in search of tranquility flees from other men and yearns for men afterwards. He never thought he'd want to come across someone like him on the road. Perhaps this lengthy solitude scared him. He couldn't have gone so mad as to be on a journey everyone would fear. Man rests on the road, questions, contradicts himself and wants to relax at the end of the day. He was going to be still if only he saw a silhouette or a movement. What he needed was the awareness that he wasn't all alone. Before long, he saw some people walking toward the horizon by themselves. He had his journey somewhat confirmed by their existence. He wasn't alone. Man can remain alone at most until that time when he feels he can tolerate others.

Drewol
I've made a long-term memory of myself in the minds of people that I don't remember from last night.

Rollkow
After the harvest was complete, they entrusted the field to a crow and took off. Now they had exactly 200 years left to return.

Delirium
Crazy! Let us hear a bit of the song you'd been singing.

Tigwa
I've made a long-term memory of myself in the minds of people that I don't remember from last night.

Mareium
I can imagine the person without the couch, but I realized, to think of the couch without the person, I need to become the couch.

Cordialis Roep
"For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying--what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt."

Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

Reisen
He finally reached a seaside town where lot of people want to move to when they get old whereas lots of others have an excuse not to. Since it wasn't the season, not many vacationers were there. It wasn't only because it wasn't the right season. Isn't vacation something that is earned with more work and advertised by others? Everybody works. He met the mild wind, loads of sea shells and timid waves on the shore. He heard a few seagulls tearing through the soupy air. Seagulls never retire. The humankind is born, raised, gets a job, catches the pieces of bread thrown at him and retires when he's old. It's only dreams that don't get old. He curled up under one of the colorful umbrellas like a stray dog, took a large sea shell in his hand, brought it up to his ear and slept to the sounds it made.

Ekbatop
I can imagine the person without the couch, but I realized, to think of the couch without the person, I need to become the couch.

Heyn
He has no idea how long he's been on the road. Every rest point he sees is crowded with planned trips... As the logic of the majority dictates, inevitable places for those who want to get from point A to B. His journey is unplanned, he has no idea where he's going and there is no logical explanation as to why he's on the road. Who wants to explain anyway? When you're on the road, you just aim to go as far as possible, but you remember where you're going and why only when you stop... Here's another one... Rest areas are part of our calculable, fabricated reality... A bland cup of tea, a coincidental meal, dirty toilets and have a nice trip... He doesn't want to rest. He will keep going until he finds the shadow of a tree or a waterfront where he can sleep.