Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

What is the baby? (A question we try to avoid answering. We dislike the question because it implants a doubt: as if we didn’t know what our baby is. There it lies on the red blanket with the white lilies, spreading the fingers of its right hand. That is our baby. An inadequate answer, evasive, as are all the answers we could give. We suspect that this question is tempting us. To what? To admit that the divine needs us and that we are not as random as we would like to assure ourselves.)