One Hundred Years of Solitude

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feet. In that state of
hallucinated lucidity, not only
did they see the images of
their own dreams, but some
saw the images dreamed by
others. It was as if the house
were full of visitors. Sitting in
her rocker in a corner of the
kitchen, Rebeca dreamed that
a man who looked very much
like her, dressed in white
linen and with his shirt collar
closed by a gold button, was
bringing her a bouquet of

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