Strangers' pilgrims

I shook hands with Marquez for the first time during this collection of stories. He must be a wonderful world, full of strange stories and events. I reassure my soul that I have undoubtedly entered a new horizon and a new storytelling station. Marquez is warm despite his dryness and realism. He believes in horoscopes a lot, I think, and he thinks that the ending must come simple to close the mouth of amazement comfortably. All that is the matter is that when I started reading, I needed something that lifts my heart and senses, colors my imagination which has been slightly fragile, moistens my tongue with dreamy and gentle expressions. But Marquez came straightforward, clear, and real. It was as if I was listening to some strange story with my own eyes. I listened, read, and imagined in my mind. I put my heart aside except in a few lines. His stories are strange and astonishing, but sometimes one can get bored, feel annoyed by tales that do not cling to miracles and colorful songs. So if one day I wanted to sit as if I were a little girl, opening my heart to bedtime stories, I would open his books and his strange stories. And Marquez... I loved you. You penetrated my heart like a butterfly, and I couldn’t block my light from you.