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Excerpt:I didn’t mean to exist so accurately. H2: Line as Accident Each stroke apologizes to the next.Ink stumbles, paper forgives.I am the choreography of indecision.Too many thoughts,not enough gravity.Ich bin Schwein, gezeichnet vom Zweifel.Still — I stand. Wobbly, but sincere. H3: Snout Philosophy My nose points nowhere in particular.It’s tired of purpose.Purpose is overestimated anyway.I sniff the moment;sometimes it smells like truth,sometimes like breakfast.Either way — it’s enough. H2: Dialogue with the Hand That Drew… read more – weiterlesen The Honest Pig (Das Schwein im Geständnis)

Excerpt:I arrived before I was finished — and that’s the point. H2: The Dawn According to Snout Pink isn’t colour — it’s momentum.It doesn’t stay; it insists.My ears catch the static of tomorrow.Behind me, orange argues with black —the world reheating its contradictions.Ich bin Schwein im Umbruch,die kleine Revolution mit großen Augen. H3: Monologue While Accelerating I don’t pose. I vibrate.The sketch can’t keep up with me.Lines chase me like rumors of form.I leave fingerprints… read more – weiterlesen The Pink Velocity (Das Schwein im Aufbruch)

…mit Zeichnungen von mir. “Stolz!” Stolz ist mitunter ein schwieriges Wort in der deutschen Sprache. Hier will ich es im besten Sinne seiner Bedeutung/en gebrauchen. Denn es ist das Gefühl, das mich erfüllt, wenn ich an die gemeinsamen Buchprojekte mit meinem Bruder Matthias Pflaum denke. Das zweite Wort dazu ist “Liebe!”. Denn ganz viel davon steckt in den Texten und den Bildern dazu. Und das dritte Wort ist “Humor!”. Denn auch mit davon steckt eine… read more – weiterlesen Die Bücher meines Bruders Matthias…

Excerpt:I was once a line, now I’m a memory drawing itself. H2: The Face That Forgets Gently Pink melts into doubt.Graphite trembles like an old melody.I am made of hesitation, layered in loops.Every curve is a thought that came back to check on itself.Ich bin Schwein und Spirale,ein Rückblick mit Ohren. H3: Snout as Compass Two nostrils — north and never.They point to places that don’t exist anymore.Air passes through them,and comes out wiser, if… read more – weiterlesen The Remembering Pig (Das Schwein, das denkt in Kreisen)

Excerpt:Between soot and silence I keep on breathing colour. H2: Birth from Ash Black curls inward, pink exhales.I am the last warm thought of a burnt idea.Each line remembers heat; each shade forgets restraint.Ich bin Schwein im Zustand der Glut —half sigh, half survival. H3: Snout as Furnace Inside me: echo, ember, oink.Outside: night sharpening its pencil.The air tastes of graphite and nostalgia.I do not shine; I smoulder.Light is only a rumour I repeat. H2:… read more – weiterlesen The Ember Pig (Das Glut-Schwein)

Excerpt:I remember light as if it were a taste. H2: Pig Made of Smoke and Memory Everything fades toward pink.My edges are tired but glowing.I am heat remembering form.A thought that didn’t cool down in time.Ich bin Schwein im Zwischenzustand —halb Farbe, halb Gefühl. H3: The Snout as Hearth Here is where warmth gathers,a spiral of breath and pigment.Black smolders at the rim,pink breathes in the middle.Every line is a flicker,every pause an exhale.I am… read more – weiterlesen The Ember Pig (Das Glut-Schwein)

Excerpt:Every outline remembers the noise that made it. H2: Prelude in Smudge Minor Ink crawls.Light hides.I exist somewhere between sigh and sketch.My form leaks,like memory trying to stay polite.Ich bin der Rest eines Gedankens —ein Schwein, das vom Denken müde wurde. H3: Dialogue with the Pencil Ghost Ghost: You’re fading.Pig: So are you.Ghost: Shall we finish the line?Pig: No, let it breathe.And so we dissolve together,a duet in grayscale. H2: The Snout Remembers Music From… read more – weiterlesen The Echo Pig (Das Nachhall-Schwein)

Excerpt:The forest hums. My snout takes aim. I sing before I shoot. H2: Overture – The Nose as Rifle I was born in a bar of Weber’s overture,a tremolo between forest and fear.My snout — no longer nose,but flintlock, breath turned ballistic.I load it with vowels and consonants:BÄM! goes the bass note.Oink in D minor. Ich bin der Freischnauz,the hunter hunted by his own geometry. H3: Aria of the Aiming Pig In the clearing I… read more – weiterlesen The Operatic Pig (Die Freischnauze)

Excerpt:I dive where logic cannot swim. H2: The Oink Beneath the Surface Down here, words dissolve.Color becomes pressure,and every bubble carries a thought that forgot its grammar.My snout filters ideas from the current —half poetry, half oxygen.Ich bin Schwein im Aggregatzustand des Traums. H3: Conversation with the Bubbles Bubble 1: Is this art?Bubble 2: Nein, it’s buoyancy.Bubble 3: I was a metaphor once, now I’m just air.And I — I am their audience,softly snorting applause…. read more – weiterlesen The Submarine Pig (Das Unterwasser-Schwein)