One Hundred Years of Solitude

before what day it was. In
spite of the memory he did
not have an awareness this
time either of to what degree
his omens had abandoned
him and while the coffee was
boiling he kept on thinking
out of pure curiosity but
without the slightest risk of
nostalgia about the woman
whose name he had never
known and whose face he had
not seen because she had
stumbled to his hammock in