"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know."
— Diane Arbus
In the years before the darkness, the realm had a queen who never stood still.
She walked her lands on legs taller than any man's, so that she could see over every hedge and into every heart. Her face was hidden behind a mask of silver leaves; nobody in the kingdom could say for certain what she looked like. Over her head she carried a parasol, and from under it a red storm poured out without end. Wherever she passed, the storm went with her: rain fell on the fields, the rivers rose, the harvest came in.
Her courtiers begged her to rest. A queen, they said, belongs on her throne. She answered with the old law of her country: here you must run as fast as you can simply to stay where you are. The moment the queen stops, the kingdom begins to fall behind.
So she ran, from meadow to meadow, from season to season, and the realm stayed whole.
"Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
— Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass
One day the running stopped. What becomes of a realm that stands still is told in the Dark Fantasy Saga, in Black Queen: Legacy of a Silent Kingdom. Two queens of one board: the red one in motion, the black one in silence.
(Fine Art Photography. Created in 2017.)
