Those big, round, black eyes seem to contain the unseen secrets. Well, of course it has to be the "unseen" secrets as opposed to the "world's" secrets. He only entered our world five months ago. Yet, in those eyes, I see a universe of incomprehensible wisdom that will be lost and irretrievable once he reaches a certain age, a certain consciousness.

"What are you thinking?"
"Do you even know? Can you even 'know'?"
"Are you aware of yourself? Of everything around you?"
"You see, but do you understand?"

I pepper him with these questions, and in response, I get a shriek or a dribble of drool as he tenaciously chews on the rubber giraffe. Why that giraffe, out of all the other toys, I cannot say. Neither can he. Or so I think.

He watches me, watching him. He continues to chew, working his way on every part of that giraffe. It is his life's purpose at that moment, to chew the hell out of that giraffe. It is important business to him, and I find myself wishing for such one-tracked mindedness when it comes to my own tasks.

The things one can learn from observing a baby.