Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:

http://www.hanser-literaturverlage.de/verlage/hanser-box

Our baby’s ear: always present. We talk about others, about this and that man, this and that woman. Sometimes we say good things, sometimes something less good, sometimes nothing good at all. Suddenly we notice: our baby is hearing it. He may not understand us, but he hears us. He hears. A peculiar shyness grips us suddenly as we speak, as though we had always taken it for granted that no one can hear us no matter how loudly or softly we speak, no matter if our speech is directed outward or inward. And with shyness comes caution: it could be dangerous to talk the way we talk, not because someone might understand (and pass on) what we say, but only because we are being heard. Whom are we betraying when we speak as we do? Beautiful, hairless ear of our baby. But wait, a backlight reveals golden down that seems to be reaching into the air between him and us. We get very quiet. Saying nothing good, nothing bad. Nothing about this or that man, this or that woman.