Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

From time to time our baby seems transparent (maybe it’s our candid, unjudgmental gaze that promotes such effects, by seeing them). It is as if the right perspective could reveal every secret of every conceivable time. The secret of the person our baby is and will be. A flight of faces (no different from individual clouds sailing across the sky) is what we call it (the sky remains, the faces pass). That is our baby, more than any character, any personality, any will, any self. Our baby changes aeons the way we change his diapers every day. Who are you?: that can only be the ultimate, the last of all questions. And yet and yet: our baby (the one in the dark violet tights that keep slipping over his toes) is precisely this person.

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