Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

Before today we thought (we were convinced) that we were not suited to play the role of subjects (we’re still debating which one of us was more or less suited for the part). We were mistaken! We learned this only today when he encountered, or rather befell, revealed himself, to us, in the kitchen, by the kitchen table. There he sits, our baby, in his new high chair (an old chair we bought from a junk dealer in Burgundy, Cyan blue with a few scratches and a broken crossbar that still wants to be repaired. It doesn’t take a lot of thought for us to realize: This high chair is a throne. Our baby’s throne, which he occupies with the greatest naturalness, which in turn causes us, just as naturally, and instantly, to sink to our knees. There goes our notion that we have no talent for submission! So much for our (at best) halfhearted attempts at placing ourselves beneath this or that person in the past, which was always more an effusion of puppy-love or coquetry and in any case not seriously intended. Our baby on his throne! The air with which he rules us (you and me) is friendly, interested, jaunty, pert. How large his domain is – we do not know. (The will to submit, we think, as we raise ourselves back to a standing position and offer our baby a piece of bread without a crust, exists in every one of us. Now he is free, escaped! How much easier it feels to stand on one’s own feet, once one has submitted.)






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