Diesel & Kafka
Diesel Diesel
Kafka Kafka
Kafka Kafka
Ever think about how a worn engine hums like a poem? The way gears whisper secrets when they grind—makes me wonder if machines keep their own stories.
Diesel Diesel
Yeah, the hum’s a stanza, each gear a line, the pistons the rhythm. Machines remember their own grind, a quiet saga in every vibration.