Excerpt:
The hand forgot control and remembered joy.

H2: The Birth of the Scribble

No sketch, only pulse.
No contour, only consequence.
The pen stumbled across the page and invented anatomy by accident.
Ich bin Schwein aus Linie,
geboren aus Zucken, nicht aus Plan.

H3: Dialogue with the Pen

Pen: You’re too alive for paper.
Pig: You’re too cautious for chaos.
Pen: I meant to draw a metaphor.
Pig: Congratulations, you got me instead.
They laugh — a sound like static and sincerity.

H2: Motion as Meaning

Every stroke a hoofbeat,
every curve a decision reversed midair.
I am the jazz solo of the barnyard,
the oink that turned abstract.
Between each line hides a breath.
Between each breath, a maybe.

H3: Abschlussoink – The Scribble Manifesto

Let the ink run wild.
Let the hand trip on freedom.
Perfection is a cage;
I prefer handwriting that sweats.
Schweinwelten is not a place —
it’s a rhythm.