Santiago Nasar had often told me that the smell of closed-in flowers had an immediate relation to death for him. - Gabriel García Márquez

An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians' stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path.

but he only found her in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude.

Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mother gives birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.