Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


Like a living definition of what one doesn’t have: the baby (our baby, we immediately hasten to add, which has the remarkable effect, not of weakening the clarity of the definition, but of strengthening it.) The baby sits there, eats his banana slices (slowly, thoughtfully, sometimes looking up to follow his fingers from the bowl, where they select a slice, to his mouth, which he is filling faster than he can masticate the banana to size and swallow it), with a serenity that has neither forgotten us, his observers (parents, students), nor retained us in memory. Our baby is (sits and eats) completely by (and for) himself, unlost in himself, leaving us with our (itching) question: and what about us, when will we exist again? No presence of another human being could be more pleasant, more genuine, more peaceful than the presence of one who is completely by himself, and yet: when our baby is no longer by himself (at the end of his banana meal?), will we then exist for him? Will we return to his eye, his consciousness, his being? End of the banana: our baby laughs in our direction. As if what was just a moment ago (his unlostness) had never been at all.

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