It’s like he’s talking about himself here:
Then he crossed his arms over his chest and
began to listen to the radiant voices of the slaves singing the six o'clock
Salve in the mills, and through the window he saw the diamond of Venus in the
sky that was dying forever, the eternal snows, the new vine whose yellow
bellflowers he would not see bloom on the following Saturday in the house
closed in mourning, the final brilliance of life that would never, through all
eternity, be repeated again
~Gabriel Garcia Marquez, The General In His
Labyrinth, 1990
1 comments:
He writes to beautifully.
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