Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

The baby grasps sand and is not surprised that there is nothing to hold on to (just a few grains are left clinging between his fingers). A hot late-summer day. The surface of the lake is motionless. From the other shore, the sound of a harmonica. Three geese are standing on the meadow, take a step, stand again. A few carp swim along the edge of the shore. A woman, swimming, divides the lake into two halves. High in the sky, an airplane, motionless, made of translucent silver. The wheels of a bicyclist grind on the pebbly lakeside path. The baby grasps sand and is not surprised. A wind rises and casts a handful of stiff leaves onto the water. They sail along. Everything is particular: all creatures and all things. (The baby, I – weless.) A simple day.

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