Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:

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It is a strangely suspended existence, this life with the baby. His becoming is so acute and sustained that it makes our experience uncertain. Should we take this (this look, this raising of a hand, this fast heartbeat) or that (that look, that raising of a hand, that fast heartbeat) at face value? We experience a baby, OK. We experience our baby, OK. That is the full extent of our knowledge. A baby? The word itself toddles off with shrug. Baby, baby, baby, we say aloud with various intonations, until our baby looks up. A look we cannot interpret. But have we ever felt safer under anyone’s gaze?