Violeta

by Isabel Allende

The onset of illness brought first a terrible chill from beyond the grave, which nothing could quell, followed by fevered shivering, a pounding headache, a blazing fire behind the eyes and in the throat, and deliriums, with terrifying hallucinations of death lurking steps away. The person’s skin turned a purplish-blue color that soon darkened until the feet and hands were black; a cough impeded breathing as a bloody foam flooded the lungs, the victim moaned and writhed in agony, and the end arrived by asphyxiation. The most fortunate ones were dead in just a few hours.

No nation had wanted to report the true number of deaths. Only Spain, who had remained neutral in the conflict, shared news of the illness,

which is why it ended up being called the Spanish influenza.

a Ford Model T, which reached the suicidal speed of thirty miles an hour.

“All I want is to close my eyes and stop existing, to dissolve into the void, like the fog at dawn,”

When I asked you if you’re going to miss me, you responded that I’ll always be sitting in a rocking chair inside your heart.