Small silver and golden metallic drops blossom from the butterfly wings that adorn my hair or are those of Isabel de Velasco?

From the past, from a palace, from a woman who was a friend and confidant, a devoted mate of the young princess, to me, to you, to them the butterfly that became a jewel. On my hair, on your hair … the thin golden hairpin glitters like a nugget: I plunge with the gaze of a child into the picture and touch the great beauty.