One Hundred Years of Solitude

unforeseen help of odors,
which were defined in the
shadows with a strength that
was much more convincing
than that of bulk and color,
and which saved her finally
from the shame of admitting
defeat. In the darkness of the
room she was able to thread a
needle and sew a buttonhole
and she knew when the milk
was about to boil. She knew
with so much certainty the
location of everything that