One Hundred Years of Solitude

other hand, his eyes were
once more the burning coals
that had startled those who
had seen him born and that in
other days had made chairs
rock with a simple glance. In
the fury of his torment he
tried futilely to rouse the
omens that had guided his
youth along dangerous paths
into the desolate wasteland of
glory. He was lost, astray in a
strange house where nothing
and no one now stirred in him