“When the child was a child… it walked with its arms swinging. It wanted the stream to be a river, the river a torrent…and this puddle to be the sea. When this child was a child… it didn’t know it was a child…everything was full of life… and all of life was one. When the child was a child… it had no opinion about anything. It had no habits. It often sat cross-legged or took off running…had a cowlick in its hair… and didn’t pull a face when photographed.”