T h e V a n i s h i n g
Being late there was urgency in your steps. It was the second Renaissance castle in as many days but you wanted to squeeze it in. Did you think meeting that most famous of sons would open a window onto who I was or were you merely ticking boxes? As we got closer we passed an outhouse with a set of double doors, charcoal-grey with large white letters. Ting der måske forsvinder. I translated it as things that might disappear. Or did I say vanish, feeling that it wasn’t quite right? How many bones and lost threads did those doors conceal?
Distracted I followed you to the castle only reluctantly catching up. Once we had taken in the masonry we scaled the wall with its vertical drop. You seemed weary of the heights or were you, too, cautious of water? Cautious of the silent sound beyond which the darkness was erasing Malmö, leaving only a garland of lights.