IN THE
ABSENCE OF HIS MAJESTY THE KING
One day
in 1907 King Oscar II got up
from all
the plush, vases, statuettes,
the
heavy curtains
and the
beautifully inlaid tables
in his
study at Stockholm Castle.
And, with
slow measured strides,
went
elsewhere.
His
funeral filled
almost
an entire issue
of Ny
Illustrerad Tidskrift.
After
ninety-five years
equally
well cleaned, hoovered
and
polished; plush cushions
family
portraits in silver frames
Queen
Victoria of England,
the
unfortunate Alexandra
and Nicholas
of Russia.
Here it
is still only 1907.
All the
dead are still living.
The
gulls on Strömmen are whirling
there in
the same pale winter light
as the
endless spaces Hades contains.
The
monarch got up and walked
with
firm steps out of his life, and
into the
newly woken world of photography.
The room
then gradually began
to
change without changing:
ceased
then in complete stillness
to be a
room
and
became a picture of itself.
And that
of the Universe.
In the
same desolately white winter light.
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