One Hundred Years of Solitude

fanning himself with a
patched black hat as he read
with compassionate attention
the signs pasted to the walls.
He greeted him with a broad
show of affection, afraid that
he had known him at another
time and that he did not
remember him now. But the
visitor was aware of his
falseness, He felt himself
forgotten, not with the
irremediable forgetfulness of
the heart, but with a different