The
Demeter

At sunset, the last of the crew watches the light fail. Each morning has brought another absence, another sign of violence, and no explanation for the evil that has crossed the sea with them.

The design holds the voyage in fragments: a weathered ship’s log, route papers, a captain’s pocket watch set just before dusk, and a deck made suddenly too open to be safe. The terror never appears. It does not need to.

It is a shirt about time moving forward without mercy—the quiet knowledge that night will arrive, whatever anyone aboard the ship may pray, beg, or do.