Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

With the baby begins our forgetfulness.  Walking in the city today, I lose first a glove, then a clip that serves to attach something to the handle of the stroller, finally (but what am I saying, finally?) the cap of a pen (I wanted to make a note, I don’t remember of what). None of the baby’s things gets lost (you say, just wait), I give them particularly careful attention. I could believe that my mindfulness of the baby goes along with a diminished mindfulness of my own concerns. Or simply: our memory is not sufficient for the abundance of things. But it’s not only the limited scope of attention or memory, it is forgetfulness itself that is grasping at us with great (but well dosed and benevolent) force. It is we who will slowly forget: this is not something that only begins after we die. Our forgetfulness is an unmistakable sign of this process (in which we simultaneously forget ourselves). It does not surprise us at all that therefore today (on our walk through the city) we experience ourselves as beings of an almost radiant presence. (In my exhilaration I almost feel like deliberately losing five Euro.)



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