Gabriel García Márquez

“For a week, almost without speaking,
they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous
reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood.”

Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
tags: grief
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One Hundred Years of Solitude One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
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