Vampirization of Isabella II of Spain

Through the walls of Palacio the electricity runs, blue and aerial runs: 
you can smell it, just a palatine city buried under white Maizena for Isabella Queen, and she walks

she walks, agitated among the violet tulips of the garden, walks, and enters

enters the royal kitchen:

with the rotund cadence of the ogress she enters where the hot tiramisus smoke along with her spouse consort, the Duke of Cádiz:
he is hanged on the yellow & black wall like a dramatic Christ of Velázquez among desserts... at certain distance, we see how two morbidly obese cats play with the agony of a white mouse
whiter than the sperm of the Saint Martyrs of yesterday.

We heard them say that there is a damnation in the blood of the Bourbon-Two Sicilies, we heard them whisper it:

Isabella ignores everything: like the ghost she passes through the walls of Palacio, her Escorial-universe; and dressed like a dama española she passes: lace mantilla and abanico

because, as Princess of the Daughters of the American Revolution she penetrates the matter in perfect osmosis

we see her disappear.

Return.













During the sumptuous gala la reina is standing on two legs of lead with three lions at her feet
transparent and towering in the middle of the hall the queen, the diminutive Duke to her left

he is belittled like a toy prince in the revolution
she is immoderately tall and doesn't sit down

it's evident for the invitees her scary translucence

are evident for the guests these inhuman eyes

furious black and pink her eyes, furious.













Isabella abdicatrix is in the exile, she left the warm cushions of her throne for her son Alfonso XIII, The Pornographer:

but... but she ignores everything: like the ghost of our yesternights she passes through the walls of exile, her exile-universe; and dressed like a dama española she passes by and through: 
lace mantilla and abanico

because, as the Queen Mother of Spain she penetrates the matter in perfect osmosis

we see her disappear.

Return.