One Hundred Years of Solitude

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her own regal gestures, would
have had reason to think that
she was mad. But she was
not. She had simply turned
the royal regalia into a device
for her memory. The first
time that she put it on she
could not help a knot from
forming in her heart and her
eyes filling with tears because
at that moment she smelled
once more the odor of shoe
polish on the boots of the
officer who came to get her at

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