kind of forgetfulness, which
was more cruel and
irrevocable and which he
knew very well because it
was the forgetfulness of
death. Then he understood.
He opened the suitcase
crammed with indecipherable
objects and from among then
he took out a little case with
many flasks. He gave José
Arcadio Buendía a drink of a
gentle color and the light
went on in his memory. His
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