Un veac de singurătate

i think i've just read the most beautiful thing written by man

the way that i love this book. from the first pages, i knew that it will enjoy it.

ghosts searching for water and company, flying carpets, yellow flowers raining from the sky, intoxicating beauty, obsessions of undoing for the sake of doing, and death. even death is curious in this enchanted world of Macondo.

generations come and generations go. no one remembers people from long ago and all the people yet to come, they too will be forgotten by those that come after them – time runs. it is a spinning wheel bound to break

' because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.'