ever be of any other since that
distant dawn when Colonel
Gerineldo Márquez took him
to the barracks, not so that he
could see an execution, but so
that for the rest of his life he
would never forget the sad
and somewhat mocking smile
of the man being shot. That
was not only his oldest
memory, but the only one he
had of his childhood. The
other one, that of an old man
with an old-fashioned vest
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