The transportation of the corpse of Eva Peron

The day Eva Peron died, the sky washed the sidewalks: azure is the color.
They were whitewashed.

The golden corpse was deposited in a silvery pantheon surrounded by statues of Palas and cold.
Her nails were devoured to the bone.

Someone whispered a sombre sentence and the transportation began.

Her hair was dyed before: 
the whole corpse was submersed into a golden solution

After.

Before.

Out in the heat there were flags with strange colors.
Out in the cold there were flags with strange colors.

Golden flags and sparrows of the republic: it was May.
It was not May.
May is a perpendicular month in Buenos Aires: everything is a cigarettes sleeve, a golden leaf in May.
The trees crack, the rain is deposited by the wind silently, the daughters wear pullover.

Pullovers of May took a bow to salute the transportation of the Eva Peron's corpse.

The huge and golden coffin was like a giant queen bee moving with majesty off the hive.

Towards a transcendental goal, towards the most oxygenated halls of Heaven: 
journey or horror in the eyes of the oval chasm that never answers.


From the windows of the aristocratic zone, on terraces of pink marble, grand ladies beheld the mare magnum in the haze, drinking their teas from Ceylon: 
the procession left the streets imbibed with an intense smell of bismuth.

While all the trains were dormant in the blue, the abnormal periplo started
while all the trains were dormant in the blue.

The corpse was divided in three, with stilettoes.
Before.

After.

Like a trifecta of Satan, transported they were, like a trifecta of Natas.
In train, ship and plane transported the portions were.
The three dismembered parts of the Eva Peron's corpse towards the mystic Paraguayan jungle, where the vaginas are rinsed by the muscular shaft.

The lanes paved in polished stones trembled of nothing, and all the sisters of March got naked on the streets under the shout of the pyramidal monument and its republican liberties.

Republican liberties.

Republican liberties?

Juan Peron disappeared.
Like a child in an universe of bread, or honey, or beurre de la patrie, maybe.

No-one knew what happened with the corpse of Eva Peron.
After.

The seal was effectively desecrated: in the jungle, as it seems, there was a trans-continental plane awaiting.
Some risked that the corpse was finally re-joined, limb by limb.
Certainly it was embalmed, in a ritual so obscure, that no-one was allowed to witness it.

Some risked that the corpse was transported towards Egypt in a midnight flight.

Some risked that the corpse, was not hers.

Before.

After.


Apparently the face was cut. Perfectly sliced, without the least trace of blood.




After these events, in the jungle.
There were found hairs of gold.