Of the world's mammals, excluding humans, only 4% live in the wild, while 60% reside in our factory farms.

A few years ago, I met pigs on a farm where they could root in the earth year-round. These pigs are the exception, compared to the hundreds of millions confined in crates, separated by steel bars, and organized in numbered systems.

A free pig loves to indulge. To let the first warm rays of the morning sun touch its coat, to sink its heavy body into cool, soft mud, and lie close together when the wind howls. They think, they observe. Anyone who has met a pig's gaze knows this.

What if it could be this way? What if they could live as they wished, as it was meant to be? Wild boars and pigs are the same animal. In the first part of Schwein, the animals have no limits. Slaughter doesn't happen when they reach 100 kg. The violence and control of their living space are gone.

What is a pig then?

A mammal like me. Fragile, curious, and cautious as a child. Wild as a teenager, joking with friends, exploring the world. Tired and busy as a mother, a host with teats, a large body made available to another. In life and death, we are the same.

In the final part of Schwein, I make room for reality, with images from one of Europe's largest pig farms.