One Hundred Years of Solitude

was useful when put into
motion. The fever of
insomnia fatigued him so
much that one dawn he could
not recognize the old man
with white hair and uncertain
gestures who came into his
bedroom. It was Prudencio
Aguilar. When he finally
identified him, startled that
the dead also aged, José
Arcadio Buendía felt himself
shaken by nostalgia.
Prudencio, he exclaimed.