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Excerpt:No order, no leader, just a magnificent misunderstanding on four legs each. H2: Scene 1 – The March Begins Pink announces itself loudly,orange winks from the side,violet sulks poetically near the floor.Somewhere in between, I squeal philosophy.Wir sind Schweine in Bewegung,und niemand weiß, wohin. H3: Dialogue Among the Marchers Pig 1: Are we a revolution?Pig 2: A picnic, maybe.Pig 3: I thought it was rehearsal!Pig 4: Doesn’t matter — keep the rhythm.They stomp, swirl, bump,… read more – weiterlesen The Pig Parade (Der Schweinemarsch der Möglichkeiten)

Excerpt:Colour woke up early — and found itself in my snout. H2: Birth by Light The paper caught fire, politely.Orange danced with pink, purple crashed the party.I appeared somewhere between hue and hope.No brush, no order — just pure chromatic gossip.Ich bin Schwein aus Farbe geboren,ein Pigment auf der Suche nach Bedeutung. H3: Snout as Sunrise I inhale dusk, exhale dawn.My nose glows like a small philosophy.You can’t look away — that’s the point.Each shadow… read more – weiterlesen The Radiant Pig (Das Schwein im Morgenrausch)

Excerpt:I didn’t pose — I happened. H2: The First Note Ink hits paper like thunder in rehearsal.Orange riffs on shadow, black hums back.The line forgets to behave;that’s when I appear.Ich bin kein Motiv —ich bin ein Moment in Moll. H3: Snout Solo Every curve a trumpet blast,every smudge a drum fill.I breathe syncopation,I blink in ¾ time.Even my silence swings.The paper keeps up — barely. H2: Dialogue with the Chaos Section Orange: I’m the heat!Grey:… read more – weiterlesen The Improvised Pig (Das Schwein im Sturm)

Excerpt:I am made of angles that decided to feel. H2: The Geometry of Tenderness Blue folds into blue.Nothing shouts — everything hums.I exist in polygons of patience.Each shape remembers a softer version of itself.Ich bin Schwein im Zustand der Formwerdung,ein Gedanke mit Rundungen. H3: Snout as Compass of Calm Two nostrils, two horizons.I inhale architecture, exhale emotion.The air bends gently,forgetting its duty to be invisible.Balance is overrated —I prefer symmetry that dreams of jazz. H2:… read more – weiterlesen The Blue Architect (Das Schwein baut sich selbst)

Excerpt:My snout caught the lightning. My thoughts never recovered. H2: The Birth of a Spectrum Pink crashes into orange,black sighs into blue.The air forgets which way meaning was supposed to go.I appear — slightly tilted,half doodle, half revelation.Ich bin Schwein in Stromform,eine Spannung aus Gefühl und Linie. H3: Snout as Flashpoint Each breath clicks like a camera shutter.Light bends over my nose,trying to photograph confusion.The result: oink with exposure problems.Every highlight is an accident,every shadow… read more – weiterlesen The Pig in Technicolor Thought (Das Schwein denkt in Blitzlicht)

Excerpt:We rehearse production, but only for fun. H2: Scene One – The Blue Machine Arrives The pigs gather.Not to work, but to wonder.A roller descends from the future, humming bureaucratically.It smells like efficiency and mild confusion.Ich schnaufe, also rolle ich.Progress winks in turquoise. H3: Dialogue Among the Reclining Swine Pig 1: Is it art or agriculture?Pig 2: Same difference.Pig 3: Maybe it’s a metaphor for bacon.Pig 4: Shh — metaphors make me itchy.They nod, philosophically… read more – weiterlesen The Roller Pig Ballet (Das Schwein auf Walzgang)

Excerpt:I am made of ink that learned to breathe underwater. H2: Descent into Blue Light sank.Sound followed.I stayed.Now I hum in wavelengths instead of words.Every brushstroke is a current,every line a ripple of thought.Ich bin Schwein im Ozean der Ahnung. H3: Snout as Sonar Two circles, two questions:Who listens when everything echoes?My breath bounces off memory —a sonar made of maybe.I locate feelings by frequency,mapping silence in spiral form. H2: Dialogue mit der Dunkelheit Darkness:… read more – weiterlesen The Abyss Pig (Das Schwein der Tiefe)

Excerpt:I am the forest’s handwriting, and today the pen bit back. H2: The Birth of the Bristle I was not drawn — I was grown.The paper trembled; the ink attacked.Each stroke a twig, each mark a mutter.I carry chaos like perfume.Ich bin Schwein und Unterholz,eine Bewegung mit Geruch von Erde. H3: Snout Against the Silence My nose knows the alphabet of mud.It reads what humans forget to write.Roots, worms, and rumours.The forest keeps its secrets… read more – weiterlesen The Wild Line (Das Schwein im Dickicht)

Excerpt:I am what happens when warmth decides to think. H2: Birth of the Burning Line Red didn’t wait for permission.Orange followed, humming.Together they declared: Let there be oink!And there was — glowing, restless, self-aware.Ich bin Schwein in der Hitze des Gedankens,ein Flächenbrand aus Gefühl und Linie. H3: Snout as Volcano Each breath erupts meaning.Each contour is a tectonic shrug.I don’t speak — I radiate.Look closely: the colour is plotting escape.Behind the pink, a small revolution… read more – weiterlesen The Fire Pig (Das Schwein aus Flammen und Form)