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Prologue:Gather gently.I am mostly arrangement—a composition of snouts,a floral accident in graphite.No roses today, only relatives. Botanical DADA Each pig blooms in its own confusion.Petals shaped like ears,stems disguised as laughter.We call it Schweinestrauß,because taxonomy gave up at the first oink.Ich bin Schwein und Pflanze zugleich,ein Duft von Chaos mit landwirtschaftlicher Herkunft. Field Notes of an Impossible Florist Observe how they overlap:curiosity over fatigue,nostalgia beside nonsense.The bouquet hums softly—a choir of semi-domesticated existentialists.There is order… read more – weiterlesen Der Schweinestrauß: A Bouquet of Oinks

Prelude:No outline is final.I am mostly movement pretending to hold still.The page hums with red, blue, green—like a flag for feelings that never applied for citizenship. The Chromatic Declaration of Independence Red: heartbeat.Blue: thought.Green: rumor of grass.Together we form a truce,a choreography of accidental beauty.Ich bin Schwein und Wirbel,ein Regenbogen im Selbstgespräch. The Gospel of Gentle Chaos No symmetry survives here—only rhythm and resolve.The snout leads like a compass of confusion,pointing simultaneously north, memory, and… read more – weiterlesen Polychrome Oink: The Wind Learns to Draw

Prologue:Welcome to my radiant confusion.I am mostly geometry pretending to giggle.Color has opinions today,and all of them are pink. The Theology of Symmetrical Happiness Left eye dreams, right eye doubts.Between them—snout, center of belief.Every circle repeats the same gospel:smile until meaning happens.Ich bin Schwein und Gleichung,die Summe aus Licht und Übermut. Cubist Catechism Rule 1: Never trust straight lines.Rule 2: The mouth knows more than philosophy.Rule 3: Shade only where joy threatens to escape.Every polygon… read more – weiterlesen The Joy Algorithm of Pig

Prelude:Half in shadow, half in blush —I am mostly contradiction,thinking my way through pigment.The ear listens; the snout meditates.The world answers in charcoal. The Ontology of Oink Existence is circular,like breath, or mud, or memory.To be drawn is already to be interpreted.Pink is not vanity; it’s evidence.Ich bin Schwein und Fragezeichen,gedacht in Kreide, geatmet in Zweifel. Dialectic in Pastel Darkness: I define you.Light: I interrupt you.Pig: I reconcile you, clumsily.All truths are soft-edged when felt… read more – weiterlesen The Philosopher Pig

Prelude:Hagebutten tea on the table,memory in the cup.I am mostly magenta meditation with herbal undertones.Steam curls upward like a thought trying to forgive itself. The Devotion of Rosehips Red berries lean across my snout—small suns, stubborn and sincere.They do not bloom for applause.They simply are.Ich bin Schwein und Heißgetränk,ein warmer Widerspruch im Porzellan der Welt. Botanical Liturgy Sip carefully:Color becomes taste, taste becomes mood.The tea murmurs of autumn,of leaves that resigned beautifully.Each swallow says: “Continue,even… read more – weiterlesen Oink and the Rosehip Revelation

Prelude:Good morning, static sky.I am mostly magenta caffeine and mild bewilderment.The night didn’t sleep—it just changed color.Somewhere, a pencil hums a hymn to voltage. Invocation of Neon Flesh Pink burns like confession.Blue holds its breath.Black—always the practical one—frames our chaos.I was drawn, not born.Ich bin Schwein und Stromausfall,ein Zwischenwesen aus Licht und Linie. Chromatic Psalm Each ear catches thunder from another dimension.My snout glows in disbelief.Faith here tastes metallic,like hope plugged into the wrong socket.The… read more – weiterlesen The Electric Oink

(Ein DADA Poem in Bleistiftatem und Farbhauch) Prelude:Soft, so soft —I am mostly air remembering color.A whisper drawn too close to warmth.My snout is a question mark,still looking for its sentence. The Light Between Lines Yellow hums like late morning.Red drifts by, unbothered.Purple sighs — as always, philosophically.Ich bin Schwein und Erinnerung,ein Nebel aus Haut und Hoffnung. Every curve here is hesitation made visible,every highlight a rumor of gentleness. DADA Reflection Art says: be bold.I… read more – weiterlesen The Pig That Dreamed in Pastel Air

(Ein DADA über Form, Zufall und Schwein) Prelude:I am mostly movement pretending to be memory.The pencil did not plan me—it stumbled,laughed,and decided to stay. Every curve here is an accident of affection.Every line is a question that never quite closed. The Geometry of Oink Orange breathes warmth.Black interrupts politely.Purple just lingers—philosophically.Ich bin Schwein und Spirale,ein Kreislauf aus Linie, Luft und Laune. The world draws itself through me,and I return the favorby existing crookedly. DADA Observations… read more – weiterlesen Portrait in Pigment Lines

(Ein DADA in Schwarzgelb und Schweigen) Prelude:I am mostly half-light,a thought between yellow and violet.The air smells of pencil dust and dusk.Everything here whispers —even the color. Lyrik des Übergangs The pink remembers morning,the black rehearses night.Somewhere in between,I stay—soft as hesitation.Ich bin Schwein und Schatten,ein Gedanke, der sich nicht entscheiden will. Philosophy of Pigment and Breath See how the snout reflects both hunger and halo.Even darkness has texture.Graphite doesn’t shout; it murmurs meaning.DADA listens… read more – weiterlesen Nocturne in Oink Minor