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The unbelievable hope that people put into forgetting – here, in the babies, it is at home, here is its source (like a cord that grows with us throughout our lives and to which we cling at moments of trouble). Often there is talk of babies (and of children) who are blessed with the gift of forgetting when loss, illness, and death enter their lives. Isn’t that our hope, which is our fear of our own memory? We think our baby does not forget. A face that forgets looks different. But so does a face that remembers. It could be useful to remember this confusion (yours, mine) at some later time.

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