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, and call it “collective intention.”

H2: The Choreography of Chaos

Steps blur into gestures,
gestures into laughter.
Colour splashes forward like jazz in hoof form.
Brown ground, blue sky — both look surprised.
The air smells of motion and mild anarchy.

H3: Abschlussoink – A Carnival of Confusion

By the time we arrive (wherever that is),
the road has turned into melody.
We breathe art without meaning to.
Dada waves a small flag and mutters “bravo.”
Every snout bows differently.
The world applauds — confused, but grateful.