Fiction Was Invented The Day Jonas Arrived

He Was Carrying A Suitcase With Clothing In Order To Stay And Another Just Like It With Almost Two Thousand Letters That She Had Written Him. They Were Arranged By Date In Bundles Ties With Colored Ribbons, And They Were All Unopened.

But He Only Found Her In The Image That Saturated His Private And Terrible Solitude.

How Will I Ever Get Out Of This Labyrinth!

In That Macondo Forgotten Even By The Birds, Where The Dust And The Heat Had Become So Strong That It Was Difficult To Breathe, Secluded By Solitude And Love And By The Solitude Of Love In A House Where It Was Almost Impossible To Sleep Because Of The Noise Of The Red Ants, Aureliano, And Amaranta Úrsula Were The Only Happy Beings, And The Most Happy On The Face Of The Earth.

Hate And Love Are Reciprocal Passions.