One Hundred Years of Solitude

had even anticipated answers,
was once more the usual
everyday conversation. When
the guard announced the end
of the visit, Aureliano took
out a roll of sweaty papers
from under the cot. They
were his poetry, the poems
inspired by Remedios, which
he had taken with him when
he left, and those he had
written later on during chance
pauses in the war. Promise
me that no one will read