Are very slow fireworks;
The densest part of a dream
Is when there’s nothing left to feel.
That summer we stayed with her aunt who smelt of cut grass and ghee. We walked the beaches, pretend nomads with face scarfs till a dog rushed out of a patch of wild flowers and begged for a game. Bored cattle strayed past, watching the sea while grazing. That night the sea’s breeze and scent carried through the window. The dog sat happy after the meal we gave him. She put on some music and the dog tried to bark in tune. She danced till her footsteps on the hardwood floor was all I could hear. When I woke up the french windows were open, she had a flower under her foot and a smile on her face.
I hear the sun fill the room,
So in a day dream
Had everything I need.
Say nothing and I’ll
Love you in a day dream,
I’ll open my eyes
When I want to land.
A summer moth drew near
And seemed to dance in her flight
Telling me of her travels,
And what she’d seen,
dwarfed by the universe.
She flew again; I bid her well.
The office is hushed and tranquil.
I spy the watchman fall asleep.
I grab some paper and pins,
With these I made wings.
Threw the window open with all my will
And to follow my dreams, I leap.
Like drawn breath and a weight on ones soul
the pause is heavy and cannot be held.
In the silence I wait, carrying the hot coal
till into life’s swell I meld.
Among others on the stroll,
with nomad hearts so easily quelled,
the toll that will soon cajole
and into the great sleepy waters weld.
In trance none will wish or extol;
so pleasant what once dwelled
in the dreams that stole
the pause of a soul held.
I can hardly imagine,
so nimble gaited a creature,
in a still and lifeless fashion
on a wormy bed, the lively preacher.
So transient a world,
blind men dream,
slow to unfurl,
the one eyed man is king.
Where do I start with Marquez? The first story is about a corpse[?] describing his long draw out decomposition.
Nearly 300 pages of bizarre, strange stories that baffle you with ever line. When Marquez had a normal story halfway through the book I was certain I was reading the wrong book.The book will be really hard to follow for the uninitiated but if you stick with it and try to figure out what Marquez is doing with every line, story and idea that he throws at you, you’ll be amazed. You’ll still be a little dazed and lost but it’s worth the effort.
The reading experience is mystical. The various sections of the book seem disconnected, like surreal images from forgotten dreams. Now and then a few… ideas [not characters, ideas] in earlier stories, within a section, make a cameo in the most random places in another story and you are left wondering what just happened. Once you’ve picked yourself off the floor and try to figure out what happened, you realize everything makes sense even if you can never explain it with words.
I worry that this little write up isn’t long enough but in my defense Marquez needs to read to be understood, it’s hard to describe the sort of literary wizardry Marques puts on display. Describing a ghost ship that makes no sound the first time it crashes and hides for half a life time is like a lamp. Functional but not crafted with passion. Reading about Marquez just isn’t as reading Marquez. If you don’t mind having your brain tossed around like salad the book is definitely worth picking up.