Ståhlis: Bodies, bodies, as far as the eye can see...

Stockholm transforms during the Midsummer holiday, shedding its usual bustle for an almost eerie quiet as residents escape to the archipelago and countryside. The author describes venturing out into the deserted streets, where the only sounds are the calls of seagulls and the echo of their own footsteps. This stillness evokes a sense of stepping back in time, a stark contrast to the typical Midsummer revelry found elsewhere.

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A frozen soul

Even in the quiet parks, solitary figures emerge. The author recounts seeing a man wearing a knitted hat and gloves despite the warm weather, a "frozen soul" in the midst of summer. Later, a woman is observed at a bus stop, pacing and talking animatedly to herself, seemingly lost in her own world. These encounters with isolated individuals underscore a sense of melancholy, prompting the author to reflect, "It's a pity about people," quoting August Strindberg.

As the Midsummer weekend concludes, the city gradually reawakens. The familiar sounds of street sweepers return, and people reappear on balconies. Down by Strömkajen, a passerby wrinkles her nose at a sun-tanned man with his bare chest exposed, a fleeting moment of everyday life. This scene is juxtaposed with a visit to the National Museum, where Johan Tobias Sergel's classical marble sculptures, depicting naked bodies, are on display.

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It's a pity about people

The exhibition, blending Neoclassicism with Sergel's more burlesque drawings, offers a different perspective on the human form. The author concludes by reflecting on the duality of life, as seen in Sergel's work and in the city's return to normalcy: "Like life itself. Seriousness and laughter. Regardless of time, regardless of century. Fantasy and reality." The author's dog, Douglas, remains unimpressed, preferring a tangible treat over philosophical musings.

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Like life itself. Seriousness and laughter. Regardless of time, regardless of century. Fantasy and reality.