GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ IN HIS HOME IN MEXICO IN 2003. PHOTO: INDIRA RESTREPO
For me these two first paragraphs at the beginning of "One Hundred Years of Solitude"'s 9th chapter is the best story has been ever told. Salute Signor Marquez.
Colonel Gerineldo Márquez had a telegraphic call from Colonel Aureliano Buendía that afternoon. It was a routine conversation which was not going to bring about any break in the stagnant war. At the end, Colonel Gerineldo Márquez looked at the desolate streets, the crystal water on the almond trees, and he found himself lost in solitude.
“Aureliano, he said sadly on the key, “it’s raining in Macondo.
There was a long silence on the line. Suddenly the apparatus jumped with the pitiless letters from Colonel Aureliano Buendía.
“Don’t be a jackass, Gerineldo,the signals said. “It’s natural for it to be raining in August.
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Great author indeed; but i always have problem with latino writers and philosophy... they are too happy for me! I'm more comfortable with french writers... a bitter taste of life! Existance and then, nothing!
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Try Mario Pedro Vargas Llosa. The bitterness will make you waste yourself.
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The bitterness makes you ready to find the truth. "A great man!"
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