From then on I began to measure my life not by years but by decades. The decade of my fifties had been decisive because I became aware that almost everybody was younger than I. The decade of my sixties was the most intense because of the suspicion that I no longer had the time to make mistakes. My seventies were frightening because of a certain possibility that the decade might be the last. Still, when I woke alive on the first morning of my nineties in the happy bed of Delgadina, I was transfixed by the agreeable idea that life was not something that passes by like Heraclitus ever-changing river, but a unique opportunity to turn over on the grill and keep broiling on the other side for another ninety years. memories of my melancholy whores, gabriel garcia marquez. RIP
Posted on: Thu, 17 Apr 2014 22:42:03 +0000
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