Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:
oder über den Online-Buchhandel
A dream chimes in, unsolicited. It’s about the affluent city we are visiting at the moment. About the beggars who are posted at every corner, every passageway, by every bridge and in front of the churches. The beggars all look alike, even male and female are hard to tell apart. Each one bears a picture of his or her family and place of origin. A styrofoam cup from a coffee shop stands in front of each one on the pavement. They all mumble the same words, waving a hand and wishing passersby and their children a good day. Suddenly our baby escapes. Quickly, with swift, nimble motions, like a fish, he glides through the alleys and gives all the beggars coins from our purses. We rush after him but are unable to catch him. Soon we have crossed the entire city, but the baby persists in giving away our money, down to the last coin. Then it turns around, looks at us, shrugs, and snuggles up to the nearest beggar, who holds it to his breast as if it were his own child. We wake up screaming, but it is only me who woke up, and a moment later I realize that I didn’t scream at all.