When the child was a child,
walked with arms hanging down,
wanted the brook to be a river, the river was
a torrent and this puddle
sea.
When the child was a child,
did not know he was a child, for him
Everything was animated
and all souls were one.
When the child was a child,
had no opinion about anything,
had no habit,
often sat crouched, and ran
suddenly had a swirl
hair and do not put
faces when photographed. (...)
Peter Handke
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