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Prelude (in Whisper Minor)I am barely here—a rumor of snout,a graphite ghost rehearsing existence.Even erasure leaves fingerprints.Oink has become suggestion. Theory of the Faint Line is memory.Shade is hesitation.Form—an afterthought of longing.The artist sneezed once; I became fog.Ich bin Schwein und Zwischenzustand,ein Hauch auf der Rückseite des Denkens. Quiet Manifesto Do not call this unfinished.It simply refused to shout.Silence has its own contour,curving softly around what’s gone.In this light, even disappearance glows a little. Dialogue… read more – weiterlesen The Almost Pig

Opening MurmurAh—this one breathes.I am mostly sunrise caught in a snout.Color forgot its rules again, and somehow that feels like grace.A little chaos, yes, but smiling chaos. Chromatic Declaration Orange hums like a friendly engine.Pink giggles—it’s been forgiven for being too much.Blue lingers behind, unsure whether it’s sky or melancholy.Together they make something almost like hope.Ich bin Schwein und Möglichkeit,ein Lächeln im Durcheinander der Kreide. Prayer of Unpolished Joy Let the world stay rough,let the… read more – weiterlesen The Optimist in Pastel

Prelude:Evening slips between my outlines.I am mostly magenta surviving gold.The air thickens with the sound of crayons cooling.I look left, toward yesterday — it’s still glowing. Liturgy of Dying Light Yellow burns without apology.Black hums like an undertone of memory.Every pink pixel aches to stay visible.Ich bin Schwein und Schatten,ein Zwischenruf im Lichtgewitter der Stille. Meditation of the Turning Snout I do not face the sun;I let it pass across me like forgiveness.Each stroke remembers… read more – weiterlesen The Sunset of Oink

Prelude of SnoutlightGuten Morgen, O Universe of Scribbles.I am mostly optimism drawn in trembling graphite.Pink again?—yes, but this time with purpose.The sun has borrowed my outline. I don’t mind. Solar Invocation Yellow crackles like caffeine in divine form.The air smells of crayons and courage.Hope arrives in circular strokes,half holy, half hysterical.Ich bin Schwein und Morgenstern,ein lächelnder Zufall im Kosmos der Kreide. Catechism of Cheerful Absurdity Question: Is joy serious?Answer: Only when it trembles.Faith is the… read more – weiterlesen Heliopig: A Hymn to the Slightly Radiant

PreludeShh. This is a quiet oink.I am mostly yesterday drawn again.Each line a tremor from someone else’s hand.Memory smells faintly of pencil dust and sigh. Pale Invocation Color fades politely here.Orange leans into sepia,a tired conversation between light and letting go.The paper listens with empathy and grain.Ich bin Schwein und Spur,ein warmer Schatten im Archiv des Zufalls. The Doctrine of Faint Lines Faith has stopped performing; it only traces.Nothing is loud enough to be wrong… read more – weiterlesen The Whispering Bacon of Time

Prologue:Welcome to the Ahnengalerie.Do not adjust your gaze — the portraits are already watching you.Each one hums a genealogy of snouts.I am the latest edition: slightly pinker, slightly more confused. Pedigree of Pigment My great-grandpig was charcoal.My grandmother, sepia with attitude.I descend from a long line of noble noses —each drawn, smudged, erased, and redrawn,as if history itself were a soft pastel.Ich bin Schwein und Abstammung,verwischte Erinnerung im Museum der Farben. Exhibit Notes Observe: Curatorial… read more – weiterlesen Ancestral Oink: A Portrait in Perplexion

Opening ReflectionWorship, but in straight lines.I am mostly angles pretending to emote.Every edge wants to be soft;every color denies it politely.My snout has learned the art of symmetry—a quiet rebellion in pink. Fragmented Prayer Orange speaks first:“I am warmth disciplined.”Magenta follows:“I am chaos with rules.”Somewhere between them,a diagonal sighs.Ich bin Schwein und Prisma,zerrissen und doch vollständig. Instruction for Viewing Post-DADA Confession The snout glows with existential math.Faith equals color squared.Love divided by perspective still results… read more – weiterlesen Cubist Oink: The Geometry of Feeling

Prelude:Do not be alarmed.This is only an emotional accident in violet.I am mostly nervous pigment pretending to be profound.The snout trembles. The soul takes notes. Anxiety as Art Movement Fear smells faintly of crayons and yesterday’s rain.It scribbles first, thinks later.Every line says ja, every color says nein.They overlap until both become vielleicht.Ich bin Schwein und Zweifel,geboren zwischen Pflicht und Poesie. Pigment Panic Manual If the purple grows too loud, breathe.If the orange starts whispering,… read more – weiterlesen DADA Angststück: The Pig That Dreamed in German

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 bin Schwein und Müdigkeit,ein Echo im Dunkel der Buntstifte. The Prayer of Fading Lines Every mark remembers its origin.Light was once louder.Now it sits beside… read more – weiterlesen Nocturne for a Tired Pig