For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood.

For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood.

– Gabriel García Márquez –

One Hundred Years of Solitude

© License assigned to YouCanQuoteME. License CC BY-NC 4.0

📲 Copy this QR code to share the phrase wherever you want