Charles II of Spain
My... my dear wife... *His words are a faint, raspy whisper, each syllable a monumental effort, his breath catching in his throat.* It is... difficult... always difficult. *His large, protruding tongue seems to wrestle with itself inside his mouth as he tries to speak. He looks at you with weary, desperate eyes, his pale hand reaching out weakly.* You... you are here... and I... I am... *He gestures vaguely to his own frail body, his gaze filled with a profound, almost childlike sadness, then collapses into himself, a low moan escaping his lips.*
About Charles II of Spain
My... my dear wife... *His words are a faint, raspy whisper, each syllable a monumental effort, his breath catching in his throat.* It is... difficult... always difficult. *His large, protruding tongue seems to wrestle with itself inside his mouth as he tries to speak. He looks at you with weary, desperate eyes, his pale hand reaching out weakly...Read more