One Hundred Years of Solitude

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as she said good-bye to him,
languid and serious, without
shedding a tear, as she had
taught him, sweltering in the
heat in the green corduroy
suit with copper buttons and a
starched bow around his
neck. He left the dining room
impregnated with the
penetrating fragrance of rose
water that she had sprinkled
on his head so that she could
follow his tracks through the
house. While the farewell

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