Prelude:
Silence froze mid-oink.
I am mostly sound turned into color.
Breath became hue,
and meaning melted somewhere between cyan and fear.

I. The Theology of Temperature

Blue is not sadness.
It’s restraint with good posture.
Every chill carries a whisper of control.
The air doesn’t move—it listens.
Ich bin Schwein und Winter,
ein Denkmal aus Atem und Eis.

II. Anatomy of the Frozen Cry

Mouth open,
not to speak,
but to echo what the world forgot to answer.
The snout shivers in metaphysics.
Even desperation looks elegant in turquoise.

III. Dialogue with Frost

Cold: I preserve you.
Pig: You erase me gently.
Blue: I am the in-between.
Together we hum the melody of the unspoken—
half lullaby, half lament.

IV. The DADA Benediction

DADA dips its brush in glacier ink.
It draws a circle where warmth used to be.
No tragedy, no triumph—
just vibration in frozen air.
Oink is the pulse that refuses to die,
even when painted in blue.