Be Calm. God Awaits You

She Would Walk Through The Kitchen At Any Hour, Whenever She Was Hungry, And Put Her Fork In The Pots And Eat A Little Of Everything Without Placing Anything On A Plate, Standing In Front Of The Stove, Talking To The Serving Women, Who Were The Only Ones With Whom She Felt Comfortable, The Ones She Got Along With Best.

She Asked Him To Come And See Her That Night. He Agreed, In Order To Get Away, Knowing That He Was Incapable Of Going. But That Night, In His Burning Bed, He Understood That He Had To Go See Her, Even If He Were Not Capable. He Got Dressed By Feel, Listening In The Dark To His Brother's Calm Breathing, The Dry Cough Of His Father In The Next Room, The Asthma Of The Hens In The Courtyard, The Buzz Of The Mosquitoes, The Beating Of His Heart, And The Inordinate Bustle Of A World That He Had Not Noticed Until Then, And He Went Out In The Sleeping Street.

Invulnerable To Time, Dedicated To The Messianic Happiness Of Thinking For Us, Knowing That We Knew That He Would Not Take Any Decision For Us That Did Not Have Our Measure, For He Had Not Survived Everything Because Of His Inconceivable Courage Or His Infinite Prudence But Because He Was The Only One Among Us Who Knew The Real Size Of Our Destiny.

Before Reaching The Final Line, However, He Had Already Understood That He Would Never Leave That Room, For It Was Foreseen That The City Of Mirrors (or Mirages) Would Be Wiped Out By The Wind And Exiled From The Memory Of Men At The Precise Moment When Aureliano Babilonia Would Finish Deciphering The Parchments, And That Everything Written On Them Was Unrepeatable Since Time Immemorial And Forever More, Because Races Condemned To One Hundred Years Of Solitude Did Not Have A Second Opportunity On Earth.

Nothing One Does In Bed Is Immoral If It Helps To Perpetuate Love.