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Watching the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II, one is left with his face open to see all that pod. Not a damn Hollywood, these Englishmen make all that display of pods so that one shits on oneself and, in addition, knows who is in charge.
One out of historical curiosity looks for the photos of when they proclaimed the Queen, and says damn! The queen was pretty when she was crowned, although she was always graceful. Sure, she was a girl, I think, 27 years old, a creature of beauty.
And seeing her funeral, seeing her daughter, Princess Anne, if I know correctly, I said to myself:
—The princess is very nice, if you saw her in the street she would give you some compliments of love.
Without knowing that she is the princess, of course.
All the BBC footage from London is hot, excellent transmission. In that I see the King, recently proclaimed, walking behind the coffin of the queen; and seeing him gave me a kind of bewilderment, a strange feeling that I didn’t know what it was, because it looks more like an “S” than a king.
And at the moment I half forgot, but I had that feeling.
But when talking with Chepel, he told me that the king was about to retire.
And right there, at that moment, I remembered that story by Gabriel García Márquez «A very old man with enormous wings», and I knew what that feeling was that had come to my body when I saw the king walking behind the coffin of the Queen.
Because, as Gabo says, «his pitiful condition as his soggy great-grandfather had deprived him of all greatness.» He made me feel bad, to be honest.
But since I don’t have a neighbor who knows all things of life and death to call. I was left with that feeling of hopelessness in my body. And besides, I didn’t have the courage «to closely examine that pitiful man who looked more like a huge decrepit hen,» in the midst of those funeral pomps.
Because «nothing of his miserable nature was in accordance with the egregious dignity» of the kings of medieval deeds. And much less with those of Disney.
Because seeing him in his gala uniform, he looks like “an old bird”, as if he were “a new mishap of decrepitude”, “sustaining himself in any way with the random flapping of wings of a senile vulture”. So it seems.
And we will never know if it will be because he is king or because he is old that he will end up eating nothing but aubergine porridge. Well, I think that only a «consolation miracle» that may rather come to seem like «mocking entertainment» will save him.
May God save the King, because there is no other.