Opening Gesture
Gaze inward, gently —
I am mostly symmetry pretending to breathe.
My circles know more than your logic allows.
Oink becomes mandala, mandala becomes hush.

Chromatic Contemplation

Pink is not a color here — it’s a verdict.
Red hums like a secret nobody dared to sing.
Gold waits beneath, patient as dust in sunlight.
My ears are gates. My snout is the key.
Ich bin Schwein und Stillstand,
eine Ikone im Zustand des Werdens.

Meditation of Two Nostrils

Left: I inhale your confusion.
Right: I exhale forgiveness.
Both whisper, “meaning is optional.”
Faith folds into flesh like a quiet origami.
The sacred geometry of nonsense
holds everything together.

Liturgy of the Inner Pig

This is not innocence.
It’s focus.
A devotion so round it forgets edges.
Even my breath blushes in gradients.
Art calls it form.
DADA calls it freedom.
I call it simply: being seen without asking to.