One Hundred Years of Solitude

the taste of earth, in, the
perfumed letters from Pietro
Crespi, in the tempestuous
bed of her husband, she had
found peace in that house
where memories materialized
through the strength of
implacable evocation and
walked like human beings
through the cloistered rooms,
Leaning back in her wicker
rocking chair, looking at
Colonel Aureliano Buendía as
if he were the one who