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We'll be watching a man extracting a pram from a hatchback in a car park, his plastic bag catching and strewing apples to a certain bruise, and you will say: Who would even want a baby these days?
With the ices melting and the seas waiting to pounce, war-makers, madmen in every ounce of news and mushroom clouds at the edge of our dreaming, the poisons we eat, and dress up as food, the noise and the noise and the petrol fumes and the how hard we have to work for a deadlock door and a simple roof and the how many ways a child could die and how wide would that hole be to carry? Why would anyone want a baby?
And I will say: but just wait till you've held one. They reach out and touch your cheek as if to say: it's alright, I've got you.