One Hundred Years of Solitude

time, but who had existed at
different times. Sitting on the
bed, her hair covered with
ashes and her face wrapped in
a red kerchief, Úrsula was
happy in the midst of the
unreal relatives whom the
children described in all
detail, as if they had really
known them. Úrsula would
converse with her forebears
about events that took place
before her own existence,
enjoying the news they gave