One Hundred Years of Solitude

letters from her children and
to give hers to the mailman,
and he listened until late at
night to the harsh,
impassioned scratching of her
pen on the paper before
hearing the sound of the light
switch and the murmur of her
prayers in the darkness. Only
then did he go to sleep,
trusting that on the following
day the awaited opportunity
would come. He became so
inspired with the idea that