In One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez writes "...and then they understood that Jose Arcadio Buendia was not as crazy as the family said, but that he was the only one who had enough lucidity to sense the truth of the fact that time also stumbled and had accidents and could therefore splinter and leave an eternalized fragment in a room." This is an incredibly beautiful and poignant sentence.
I'm getting emotionally overwhelmed, between opening wide to memory to write my LMCC proposal and upcoming changes in my immediate family (chosen and of origin) and work life. My wonderful cat Riley's death was a year ago Saturday, and that's with me as well. Everything just feels so sensitive.
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I just started reading "Love in the Time of Cholera". I like Marquez' writing so far! This excerpt reminds me a bit of Jeanette Winterson (a current favorite of mine).
ReplyDeleteThanks for your note. I haven't read Winterson. I'm reading Clement Greenberg: A Life now ... following on Truitt's memoirs, which I wish went on forever.
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