I have a K-shirt. It is not a normal shirt, t-shirt is my karma.
Founded as an ordinary fruit, the white shirt-K has been submitted by the expert hands of my best friend to the technique of batik, also called "technical vomiting" for clear references to the results of the designs of certain movements when gastric exaggerates with drinking.
The K-90 shirt is a piece of my wardrobe and unpresentable: it has a pale peach background and patches of color also faded and thrown here and there, in strictly random order. When I wear my K-shirt erotic potential has a peak down and bystanders, especially in the person of my mother, horrified.
At this point you understand that for me the K-shirt is not just a shirt, is a state of mind: why have not the heart to throw it away and, indeed, take it with me in all my adventures.
Two days ago I started ballet and I was flipping through the photos I shot last year in class, I realized that the photographer came the only day I wore the shirt of karma, that the bar takes up his figure .
year, then, in Abruzzo, someone also told me: "how do you give that color! "And I'm still here I'm wondering if it was a compliment or a jack ass.
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