I saw myself drawn by a trembling hand. The ink sneezed, and I was born.

H2: Snout Philosophy

I am pink and uncertain.
My ears listen to the noise of the pencil — it murmurs existential bacon.
The world is a green smudge, a charcoal storm.
My legs, four commas.
My body, an unfinished sentence.
I stand on the paper, not believing in gravity but in gesture.

H3: Dialogue Between Line and Oink

Line: I contain you.
Oink: You misunderstand containment. I am porous, porous as paint.
Line: Then why do you tremble?
Oink: Because the artist sneezed meaning into my nostrils.

H2: Catalogue of Unfinished Things

• One nose ring of thought.
• Two hooves of hesitation.
• Three tones of orange silence.
• Four directions, all pointing inward.

I am not a pig. I am a theory of attention.
I am not a theory. I am a mistake with eyelashes.
I am not a mistake. I am the echo of a marker tip saying maybe.

H3: Closing Snuffle

Dear spectator,
you drew me with your eyes before I was drawn by a hand.
When you look at me, I redraw you.
That’s the deal in Dada:
no pig leaves the page unchanged.