Prelude:
Good morning, graphite and gravity.
The word I WISH hovers like breath on cold glass.
I am mostly longing with a snout attached—
a soft hypothesis about hope.

I. The Architecture of Desire

Every wish begins as a sketch:
uncertain, trembling, almost erased.
Lines curve toward possibility,
then loop back into habit.
Ich bin Schwein und Sehnsucht,
ein Bleistifttraum auf dünnem Papier.

II. The Physics of Wanting

The light falls shyly,
as if afraid to illuminate disappointment.
Even shading becomes prayer.
In every smudge:
a heartbeat rehearsing “maybe.”
Graphite knows — hope leaves fingerprints.

III. Dialogue Between Word and Snout

Word: I shine too loudly.
Pig: I wish more quietly.
Word: You mean it?
Pig: Always. That’s the curse of sincerity.
The page blushes, unsure whether to weep or laugh.

IV. DADA’s Morning Sermon

DADA arrives late,
spilling coffee on the corner of meaning.
It reads the word WISH,
tilts its head,
and writes underneath: ALREADY.
The pig looks up—
half gratitude, half disbelief—
and oinks like a whispered amen.