The Egyptians painted this eye wherever they most needed to be watched over.
It went on the prows of boats and the lids of coffins, on amulets pressed against the skin, anywhere a person wanted a god looking back at the dark. They called it the wedjat, the sound eye, the whole and healthy one, and they asked it to do two things at once: to see everything coming, and to keep the wearer safe from it.
They even cut the eye into pieces and made it count. Each curve and lash stood for a fraction, a working measure for grain and medicine, as though sight itself could be weighed and shared out. A thing that protects, heals, and reckons all at the same time. Little wonder it outlived the empire that drew it.
Worn here in full color over two plain words. Printed heavy on garment dyed cotton, for the ones who would rather see clearly than look away.
