One Hundred Years of Solitude

Aureliano Segundo
returned home with his
trunks, convinced that not
only Úrsula but all the
inhabitants of Macondo were
waiting for it to dear in order
to die. He had seen them as
he passed by, sitting in their
parlors with an absorbed look
and folded arms, feeling
unbroken time pass, relentless
times, because it was useless
to divide it into months and
years, and the days into