HOMAGE TO GABRIEL GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ - THANKS GABO FOR ALL THOSE "MAGIC" MOMENTS

I was only 17 the first time I read a novel by García Márquez. It was October and I had just started studying COU, when one of those publishing houses which launch every year a new collection of masterpieces of universal literature offered two novels for the price of one in the first instalment. I couldn´t avoid purchasing these two literary jewels: "La Familia de Pascual Duarte" and "Crónica de una Muerte Anunciada". This is how I came across the literary world of one of my favourite writers. Some years later I´d read another novel of Gabo considered by many as his masterpiece- "Cien Años de Soledad" (One Hundred Years of Solitude).
The great García Márquez will never die as long as someone carries on reading his novels or his articles. Here I leave you the beginning of one of the best novels of all times after "El Quixote":

Many years later as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point. Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies would set up their tents near the village, and with a great uproar of pipes and kettledrums they would display new inventions. First they brought the magnet. 

Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo. Macondo era entonces una aldea de veinte casas de barro y cañabrava construidas a la orilla de un río de aguas diáfanas que se precipitaban por un lecho de piedras pulidas, blancas y enormes como huevos prehistóricos. El mundo era tan reciente, que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para mencionarlas había que señalarías con el dedo. Todos los años, por el mes de marzo, una familia de gitanos desarrapados plantaba su carpa cerca de la aldea, y con un grande alboroto de pitos y timbales daban a conocer los nuevos inventos. Primero llevaron el imán.