Innocent Erendira and Other Stories – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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Innocent Erendira

“Erendira was bathing her grandmother when the wind of her misfortune began to blow.”
Eva is Inside Her Cat
“The walls gave off a strong smell of fresh paint, that thick, grand smell that you don’t smell with your nose but with your stomach.”
The Woman Who Came at Six O’Clock
“An idea that had entered through one ear, spun about for a moment, vague, confused, and gone out through the other, leaving behind only a warm vestige of terror.”

The Other Side of Death

Yes. They were twin brothers, exact, whom no one could distinguish at first sight. Before when they both were living their separate lives, they were nothing but two twin brothers, simple and apart like two different men. Spirituallythere was no common factor between them. But now, when rigidity, the terrible reality, was climbing up along his back like an invertebrate animal, something had dissolved in his integral atmosphere, something that sounded like an emptiness, as if a precipice had opened up at his side, or as if his body had suddenly been sliced in two by an axe; not that exact, anatomical body under a perfect geometrical definition; not that physical body that now felt fear; another body, rather, that was coming from beyond his, that had been sunken with him in the liquid night of the maternal womb and was climbing up with him through the branches of an ancient genealogy; that was with him in the blood of his four pairs of great-grandparents and that came from way back, from the beginning of the world, sustaining with its weight, with its mysterious presence, the whole universal balance. It might be that he had been in the blood of Isaac and Rebecca, that it was his other brother who had been born shackled to his heel and who came tumbling along generation after generation, night after night, from kiss to kiss, from love to love, descending through arteries and testicles until he arrived, as on a night voyage at the womb of his recent mother.
The Sea of Lost Time
“My last wish,” she said to her husband, “is to be buried alive.”

She said it as if she were on her deathbed, but she was sitting across the table in a dining room with windows through which the bright March light came pouring in and spread throughout the house. Opposite her, calming his peaceful hunger, was old Jacob, a man who had loved her so much and for so long that he could no longer conceive of any suffering that didn’t start with his life.

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