Out on the terrace, you watch the birds circling in the sky until the day vanishes completely beneath the horizon. Then you enter the bedroom where the baby is resting under the coursing lions and galloping giraffes, who settle down at your touch. The child tries out a few
vocalises, exploring the variations of her instrument a little more methodically, and you reply with distracted enthusiasm. Her warbling grows more elaborate every day. She fuels the dialogue with smiles; she questions, suggests, protests, wriggles like a bug on its back, laughing in the hope of winning you to her side. In the end you take her in your arms to rock her dreamily from side to side, up and down, in more and more of a daze.