One Hundred Years of Solitude

one by one, seventy-two gold
bricks, Everyone had
forgotten about the existence
of that fortune. In the disorder
of the past year, when the
central command fell apart
and the revolution
degenerated into a bloody
rivalry of leaders, it was
impossible to determine any
responsibility. The gold of the
revolution, melted into blocks
that were then covered with
baked clay, was beyond all