Three human beings are floating through time and space. They circle around each other: getting up, laying down, carrying one another, a break for a few minutes. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. They are constantly afoot: like interstellar objects and their parent planets, they are constantly correlating to one another, even at the most distant point.

It’s early August, one of those hot summer nights, as we start to wean our son. For my part, every time our son was breastfed during the last month, Iʻve felt very much like a spectator who is crashing a perfect symbiosis. Partly jealous, partly in awe, partly relieved due to the lack of responsibility and the constant availability. These feelings have lasted throughout my fatherhood so far, being the center of discussions about equality and care and maintenance-work.

A new universe emerges and our orbits are re-arranging themselves, still unclear who is encircling whom.