One Hundred Years of Solitude

and a hat with a brim like a
crows wings who told him
marvelous things framed in a
dazzling window, he was
unable to place in any period.
It was an uncertain memory,
entirely devoid of lessons or
nostalgia, the opposite of the
memory of the executed man,
which had really set the
direction of his life and would
return to his memory clearer
and dearer as he grew older,
as if the passage of time were