(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 favor
by existing crookedly.

DADA Observations

The snout leads, as always—
a compass of confusion.
The eye follows,
pretending to understand.
The ear listens only to nonsense,
and somehow that makes sense again.

Art says: “Balance.”
Pig says: “Wobble.”
Both are correct.

Final Pigment Sermon

Perfection was never the goal.
Breath was.
Movement was.
Color—an afterthought of being awake.

DADA calls it chaos.
I call it kindness
with graphite edges
and a heartbeat underneath.