Excerpt:
Every outline remembers the noise that made it.

H2: Prelude in Smudge Minor

Ink crawls.
Light hides.
I exist somewhere between sigh and sketch.
My form leaks,
like memory trying to stay polite.
Ich bin der Rest eines Gedankens —
ein Schwein, das vom Denken müde wurde.

H3: Dialogue with the Pencil Ghost

Ghost: You’re fading.
Pig: So are you.
Ghost: Shall we finish the line?
Pig: No, let it breathe.
And so we dissolve together,
a duet in grayscale.

H2: The Snout Remembers Music

From the forest of Freischnauz I return,
the aria still clinging to my nostrils.
I hum it softly —
not with voice,
but with absence.
Each curve a note,
each scratch a prayer.

H3: Abschlussoink – Soft Reprise

If you listen close enough,
you’ll hear what isn’t drawn:
a sigh,
a step,
the graphite heartbeat of all lost pigs.
Dada calls it nonsense.
I call it truth with dirty hooves.