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The Song of Childhood
When the child was a child, it went with hanging arms, the stream wanted to be a river, the river wanted to be a stream, and this puddle the sea.
When the child was child, he did not know that it was child, everything was animated him, and all souls were one.
When the child was a child, it had no opinion of anything, had no habit, often sat cross-legged, ran from a standing position, had a vortex in his hair, and did not make a face while photographing.
When the child was a child, it was the time of the following questions: Why am I and why not you? Why am I here and why not there? When did time begin and where does space end? Isn't living under the sun just a dream? Is what I see and hear and smell not just the appearance of a world before the world? [...]
When the child was a child, he played with enthusiasm [...] When the child was a child, the berries fell like only berries in his hand and now still, [...] reached in the top of a tree for the cherries in a elation
as still today, [...] it waited for the first snow, and still waits.
When the child was a child, he threw a stick as a lance against the tree, and she still trembles there today.
("Song of Childhood", Peter Handke)
When the child was a child, he enthusiastically played catch in a wild meadow, then smelled of fresh flowers and harsh green, stained his pants and didn't care.
When the child was a child, he ran on immediately, grated lemon blossoms with his little hands, sniffed at them and didn't know that this lemon scent resembled the one in British men's scents, bitter-soapy, he just smelled it again and again and didn't care about the note
When the child was a child, he could still perceive the finest scents, didn't need much of them, didn't want to wrap himself in clouds and noticed two hours later the delicate transformation of the lemon blossom into feather-light musk.
When the child was a child, he didn't want to sit there for long, and after three hours he finally broke free in search of something new.
When the child was a child, he asked himself: How can it be that I, who I am, was not before I became, and that once I, who I am, will no longer be who I am? When it was finally no longer a child, it knew that it could be who it was at any time, if only for a while.
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