One Hundred Years of Solitude

out of her womb, not
knowing herself that she was
his great-grandmother. Only
in a house like that was it
conceivable for her always to
sleep on a mat she laid out on
the pantry floor in the midst
of the nocturnal noise of the
rats, and without telling
anyone that one night she had
awakened with the frightened
feeling that someone was
looking at her in the darkness
and that it was a poisonous