A fortnight ago I took the train to Weimar to see friends and meet their newborn son.
Mostly, he slept.
When he flailed and frightened us with his roars, we put him in the sling and went to see all Weimar held. As we walked, the light varied between chalk and gold.
In the evening, we dined in the garden and watched the light fade.
And when we woke? We brought out speakers and for long stretches we ignored the breakfast spread, enraptured by the sight of Emmanuel kicking his tiny legs in time to the music.