Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

The baby’s gaze as he looks at me. Open. Calm. Silent. Suddenly I feel sorry for him. (This is now my feeling, only my feeling, not shareable, but not because I do not wish to share it. Just as the baby’s gaze is meant for me, so is my feeling.) What is it that I regret on my baby’s behalf? Is it this undefended gaze, which he will lose? Do I regret having lost it? I look at the baby, but am not returning his gaze. I cannot return such a gaze. The baby persists. He tilts his head toward mine. Beckons me. Knocks his forehead against my forehead. Beckons me to enter his gaze. It takes an eternity. Then I think: my baby. And I see that he sees my gaze as I look at him: Open. Calm. Silent.    

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