Excerpt:
Half of me remembers mud. The other half invents sky.

H2: The Chromatic Snout

I was born in a brushstroke — zack, pink became philosophy.
Red said: “I am blood.”
Blue replied: “I am thinking.”
And suddenly, I existed:
a contradiction in watercolor.
Ich bin Schwein und Schatten,
schnaufend im Regenbogenraum.

H3: Eye of the Zwischenwelt

Do you see me or does the blue see through you?
My eye is not watching — it’s rehearsing.
It practices being awake.
Every blink is a small revolution.
Oink equals doubt.
Oink equals Denken mit Farbe.

H2: Manifesto of the Mixed Pigment

I declare:
No line shall stay straight.
No hue shall stay loyal.
Every pig deserves a sky to smudge.
I am the patron saint of imperfect contrasts.
My religion: crayon chaos,
my prayer: Grunt alleluja!

H3: Final Swine-Silence

Somewhere outside the paper,
someone names me “pig.”
Inside, I am just
a vibration between Rot und Blau —
the brief moment before meaning melts.