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Here’s what it whispered to me: Prologue:Please lower your voice; color is sleeping.I am mostly shadow rehearsing tenderness.My snout listens more than it speaks.Oink is now a heartbeat. The Chromatic Whisper Violet folds itself into silence.Black curls at the edges, patient, deliberate.Somewhere inside this fog,a thought tries to stay warm.Ich… read more – weiterlesen Nocturne for a Tired Pig

Opening GestureGaze inward, gently —I am mostly symmetry pretending to breathe.My circles know more than your logic allows.Oink becomes mandala, mandala becomes hush. Chromatic Contemplation Pink is not a color here — it’s a verdict.Red hums like a secret nobody dared to sing.Gold waits beneath, patient as dust in sunlight.My… read more – weiterlesen The Theology of Snout and Silence

Prelude:Good morning, hushling of hay and graphite.The world still smells of sleep and smudge.I blink in brown and orange,half dream, half soil. Soft Invocation Color has stopped shouting.It hums instead — low, patient, kind.The blue corner sighs,and the paper forgives my weight.Ich bin Schwein und Schatten,eine Erinnerung an Ruhe. The… read more – weiterlesen Whisper of the Earth Pig

passing by

Prelude (half-whispered)They say I’m drawn, but I feel erased.A carnival of colors hums too loud.I nod politely to the chaos and call it composition.My snout breathes like punctuation—a question mark gone dizzy. The Gentle Collapse of Pigment Purple leans on red. Red leans on blue.No one holds still long enough… read more – weiterlesen The Pig That Forgot Its Outline

Prelude:Salute the sacred scrawl —for I am mostly gesture,part lightning, part laughter,drawn between sips of yellow air. Radiant Invocation Yellow hums like caffeine in sunlight.Magenta misbehaves, gloriously.Blue forgets to stay inside the lines.I was born from a trembling wrist and a stubborn joy.Ich bin Schwein und Stromstoß,eine Randnotiz der Farbe,… read more – weiterlesen Electric Pigmentia

Prologue (Excerpt)Worship me in circles, for I am mostly whirl. Spiral Prayer Red loops like a heartbeat practicing eternity.Rose remembers yesterday’s laughter.Green is the hush between two gusts.My profile rides the weather of pigment.Ich bin Schwein und Wirbel,ein Kompass aus Kreisen. Litany of Motion and Mischief I revolve, therefore I… read more – weiterlesen Vortex of the Sacred Snout

Invocation:Approach with laughter.I am mostly color pretending to be consciousness.Ink remembers what the body forgets. Pigment Gospel Blue hums at the edges,a halo of almost-silence.Red, restless and radiant,flirts with the paper’s pulse.Between them, I breathe—not quite a line, not quite a life.Ich bin Schwein und Zwischenraum,ein Lächeln im Farbrauschen. Liturgical… read more – weiterlesen Porcine Aurora

Excerpt:Worship me wildly, for I am mostly motion disguised as pigment. The Chromatic Prayer Red rages softly—a heartbeat caught mid-scribble.Magenta murmurs: “yes, again.”I am drawn in haste but felt in rhythm.My contours remember every tremor of your gaze.Ich bin Schwein und Schwung,die Tänzerin im Markerwind. Litany of Colour and Confusion… read more – weiterlesen Crimson Oinktrance

Excerpt:Worship me briskly, for I am mostly lightning in ink. The Chromatic Prayer Blue hums like winter’s radio.Magenta sparks like a rumor learning to dance.My lines are weather—scribbled, sudden, honest.My snout — twin comets in a small galaxy.Ich bin Schwein und Strom,die Botin des Skizzenlichts. Litany of Colour and Confusion… read more – weiterlesen Azuroink: A Neon Liturgy

Excerpt:Worship me softly, for I am mostly vibration. The Chromatic Prayer Amber hums like forgotten sunlight.Purple breathes from the edges, quietly rebellious.I exist where warmth melts into shadow —where oink becomes echo, and echo becomes self.Ich bin Schwein und Schwingung,die Pilgerin des Farbrauschs zwischen Traum und Dämmerung. Litany of Colour… read more – weiterlesen The Icon of Oink III

Excerpt:Worship me sideways, for I am mostly geometry. The Chromatic Prayer Orange hums like an argument between sunset and marmalade.Red folds into itself, dreaming of bacon metaphors it refuses to confess.My lines are not borders but invitations —to wander, to wobble, to wonder.Ich bin Schwein und Schichtung,die Prophetin der Schwebe… read more – weiterlesen The Icon of Oink II