Gabriel García Márquez

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2 thoughts on “My Art for today. Dedicated to the memory of Gabriel García Márquez

  1. MANY YEARS LATER as he faced the firing squad, Colonel
    Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his
    father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of
    twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that
    ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous,
    like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things
    lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.
    Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies
    would set up their tents near the village, and with a great uproar of
    pipes and kettledrums they would display new inventions. First they
    brought the magnet. A heavy gypsy with an untamed beard and
    sparrow hands, who introduced himself as Melquíades, put on a bold
    public demonstration of what he himself called the eighth wonder of
    the learned alchemists of Macedonia. He went from house to house
    dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots,
    pans, tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places and beams
    creak from the desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge, and
    even objects that had been lost for a long time appeared from where
    they had been searched for most and went dragging along in
    turbulent confusion behind Melquíades’ magical irons. “Things have a
    life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s
    simply a matter of waking up their souls.” José Arcadio Buendía,
    whose unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of
    nature and even beyond miracles and magic, thought that it would be
    possible to make use of that useless invention to extract gold from the
    bowels of the earth. Melquíades, who was an honest man, warned
    him: “It won’t work for that.” But José Arcadio Buendía at that time did
    not believe in the honesty of gypsies, so he traded his mule and a
    pair of goats for the two magnetized ingots. Úrsula Iguarán, his wife,
    who relied on those animals to increase their poor domestic holdings,
    was unable to dissuade him. “Very soon well have gold enough and
    more to pave the floors of the house,” her husband replied. For
    several months he worked hard to demonstrate the truth of his idea.
    He explored every inch of the region, even the riverbed, dragging the
    two iron ingots along and reciting Melquíades’ incantation aloud. The
    only thing he succeeded in doing was to unearth a suit of fifteenthcentury
    armor which had all of its pieces soldered together with rust
    and inside of which there was the hollow resonance of an enormous
    stone-filled gourd.

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