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A story’s arc is never a straight line. At a certain point, a plot twist arrives, a complication unfolds, and as it gradually develops, more and more episodes emerge. One knot leads to a resolution, while another entangles the core storyline even further.
As a tribute to this profound interplay between storytelling and existence—the multiplication and branching of a narrative—a unique wearable object emerges: a set of ropes accompanied by a wearable story.
Just as our stories become tangled and knotted, we gradually thread new and ever-evolving meanings onto them. Similarly, our ropes entwine into intricate tales that we carry with us, and to which we grant significance.
Where I Go
I have no manual for the binding,
I have no reason for the singing,
I’ll only tell you of the places where
I go with evening’s stinging.
To the bar on Panská Street,
where people are allowed to laugh and meet.
They’ll tell you of a life portrayed as
a tangle in which chance is laid.
I have no manual for the binding,
I have no reason for the singing,
I’ll only tell you of the places where
I go with evening’s stinging.
To the bar on Panská Street,
where people are allowed to laugh and meet.
They’ll tell you of a life portrayed as
a tangle in which chance is laid.
Ropes
We’ve unraveled every cord,
Forgotten the airs we once adored,
Entwined them into one another,
Cain and Abel—brother and brother.
But that is how the world unfolds...
One tames the other, as the story holds.
We’ve unraveled every cord,
Forgotten the airs we once adored,
Entwined them into one another,
Cain and Abel—brother and brother.
But that is how the world unfolds...
One tames the other, as the story holds.