One Hundred Years of Solitude

mementos and piles of
useless trash and articles of
superstition that had been
piling up in the corners, and
the only thing she spared, out
of gratitude to Úrsula, was
the daguerreotype of
Remedios in the parlor. My,
such luxury, she would shout,
dying with laughter. A
fourteen-year-old
grandmother! When one of
the masons told her that the
house was full of apparitions