One Hundred Years of Solitude

of the vicious circle of that
eternal war that always found
him in the same place, but
always older, wearier, even
more in the position of not
knowing why, or how, or
even when. There was always
someone outside of the chalk
circle. Someone who needed
money, someone who had a
son with whooping cough, or
someone who wanted to go
off and sleep forever because
he could not stand the shit