One Hundred Years of Solitude

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carried it hidden since
infancy in an inviolable
backwater of his heart.


            Ive come    to  sleep   with    you,

he said.


            His clothes were    smeared

with mud and vomit. Pilar
Ternera, who lived alone at
that time with her two
younger children, did not ask
him any questions. She took
him to the bed. She cleaned
his face with a damp cloth,

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