corsets of old age, and when
she changed the black
bandage of terrible expiation
on her hand. Always, at every
moment, asleep and awake,
during the most sublime and
most abject moments,
Amaranta thought about
Rebeca, because solitude had
made a selection in her
memory and had burned the
dimming piles of nostalgic
waste that life had
accumulated in her heart, and
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