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one winter night while the soup was boiling in the fireplace, he missed the heat of the back of his store, the buzzing of the sun on the dusty almond trees, the whistle of the train during the lethargy of siesta time, just as in macondo he had missed the winter soup in the fireplace, the cries of the coffee vendor, and the fleeting larks of ( Read more... )

Apparition ( Read more... )

i used to write everything down. everything. the color of the carpet and the cracks on the ceiling and the clothes i was wearing. i didn't want to forget anything. i wanted to be able to open my notebook one day in a thousand years and say, yes, i remember what it was (what it is) to be eight and twelve and sixteen. i wanted to be able to go back ( Read more... )

One day a long, long time ago in a blush-green garden I am young and so are you and so is everything ( Read more... )