Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


oder über den Online-Buchhandel

Procreation, we think (while comparing our big toes: the little big toe of our baby, your little big toe, my broad big toe), when does it happen? Surely not at that single moment that all the fuss is about? Procreation, procreation, procreation – it’s constantly moving, gliding through and with us through the day and the night and into the next day and the next night. It’s the conveyor belt we’re all on, impossible to jump off, impossible to stop (what would happen if procreation could be interrupted? We try to imagine it, for fun – a cruel kind of fun –, but it can’t be interrupted, that’s one thing it can’t do). It’s our conveyor belt? Yes, for it alone takes us to where we always wanted to get to, where we want to go when we want to go somewhere we can’t get to by ourselves, that’s for sure (here our big toes nod. Your big toe and my big toe consciously nod, our baby’s big toe unconsciously nods – and this nodding by our baby means nodding to us much more than our own nodding does).



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