One Hundred Years of Solitude

had never known his real
origins, he found out that he
was the son of Pilar Ternera,
who had hung up a hammock
so that he could take his
siesta in her house. More than
mother and son, they were
accomplices in solitude. Pilar
Ternera had lost the trail of
all hope. Her laugh had taken
on the tones of an organ, her
breasts had succumbed to the
tedium of endless caressing,
her stomach and her thighs