Prologue

Shade breathes, color waits.
A snout emerges — half prayer, half question.
The air smells of unfinished tenderness.

Body I

Law one: Magenta remembers what grey forgets.
Law two: Every outline is a hesitation.
Law three: To stare is to translate silence.

I, the watcher of piggish calm,
feel the ink pulse between sighs.
Your nostrils are portals,
your calm — rebellion in disguise.
Each pencil storm folds inward,
becoming breath, becoming almost word.

Body II

Graphite asks: „Are you awake?“
Pink answers softly: „I am listening.“
Their dialogue hums at the edge of color,
where time stops pretending to move.

DADA Break

huff–snuff–enough–uff
rose noir, oink soir

Closing

Stillness curls around your face.
The drawing dreams itself again.
Tomorrow — perhaps — the snout will speak.