Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

With relief we notice that the distance separating our baby from death has grown (a stroll through the abandoned cemetery allows us to forget its original purpose despite many remaining gravestones and crosses; an icy November day, cold air and brilliant sun, side by side, contactless). This is how it seems to us, after three quarters of a year, we are breathing deeply (more deeply than we have for a long time), and feel out of harm’s way. How far the proximity of birth and death reaches is something we cannot measure, nor do we wish to. What makes us glad now is the distance, yes, we too (you, I, not just the baby) have moved on from the shattering moment of birth (let us not be deceived by the great gladness). Except death can be equally shattering (let us not be deceived by the great sorrow). Enough! we call out to ourselves (under the warming rays of our baby in his stroller: only his face is unwrapped), let us forget this subject (which is easy to do, no subject is easier to forget)!



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