snow or sunshine she was always there, in the long exit passage of the old town metro near Stockkholm's waterfront tunes, mournful or joyful, from her violin, in harmony with the tone of the season, the street scene in town Ulla, well into her seventies, was the sight that greeted me every morning and post-lunch, as I took the long exit enroute to work counting myself lucky, landing a job in an office in the old town, a virtual tourist haven in the continent, why, for the whole world. the office lay but a stone's throw from the station , once past Ulla's resident spot, really the best part in town
at one edge of the old town lies the grand palace, the King's avenue slopes down towards the beautiful waterfront
at the other end of town, the lake and the Baltic meet, and the largest passenger ships in the world lie serenely anchored
Ulla never glanced at you, as the coins rained down on her spread scarf, but did flash a smile, gracious, but sad the fifty-odd employees at my government institute were but a minority in the vast scale, the grand total of her daily supporters for, summer, snow or spring, the old town teems with people: from afar, from villages inland, ever vibrant with colours a long day for us at work, the day starts at eight - but so also for Ulla, who worked six days to our regular five 'poor lady, I wonder if she can afford lunch, even a sandwich,', said my friend Kalle - taking her a burger, part of his routine 'for sure she goes at sundown to the home for the homeless' I ventured, 'where they offer but a night's stay, one is out at dawn' seasons changed, years rolled on, with momentous changes in our lives - marriage, parenthood, sadly, divorces for some
but time stood still for Ulla, so it seemed to us - but no probing on our parts, something in those faded eyes said no
when the winter winds blew straight into the exit, poor Ulla played on, sad tunes for the season, shrunk into an ancient coat then the inevitable happens though we never did believe it would, her reserved spot lay empty for days, we had it confirmed from a guard 'yes, you are right', the guard said, 'she had no one, and now that she is gone, her estate, all her assets, reverts to the government'. 'it's not as if she had a grand villa, to be used as a ministerial office', I whispered to Kalle as the guard waxed eloquent
a few days later, as dined at the old town's sushi palace, the guard hailed us boisterously from the best choice of seats 'you know how much was left for the state by old lady?', he asked suddenly, shrewdly looking at each in turn ' a hundred', I ventured lazily, and he shook his head in triumph; 'oh don't carry on thus, it's banal', Kalle cried, but then said,' a thousand, there!' 'she left more than you or I will earn in decades from our slavery', the guard guffawed, ' it was a little less than - not a thousand, but - three million'
something in her faded eyes to
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