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ramintork

ramintork I write about Iranian contemporary history in the form of stories and screenplays in order to bring the truth that the regime is so desperately trying to hide. My early Iranian.com contributions: http://iranian.com/main/member/ramintork.html

Made from the opening of "One Hundred Years of Solitude"

ramintork

ramintork I write about Iranian contemporary history in the form of stories and screenplays in order to bring the truth that the regime is so desperately trying to hide. My early Iranian.com contributions: http://iranian.com/main/member/ramintork.html

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. A heavy gypsy with an untamed beard and
sparrow hands, who introduced himself as Melquíades, put on a bold
public demonstration of what he himself called the eighth wonder of
the learned alchemists of Macedonia. He went from house to house
dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots,
pans, tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places and beams
creak from the desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge, and
even objects that had been lost for a long time appeared from where
they had been searched for most and went dragging along in
turbulent confusion behind Melquíades’ magical irons. “Things have a
life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s
simply a matter of waking up their souls.” José Arcadio Buendía,
whose unbridled imagination always went beyond the genius of
nature and even beyond miracles and magic, thought that it would be
possible to make use of that useless invention to extract gold from the
bowels of the earth. Melquíades, who was an honest man, warned
him: “It won’t work for that.” But José Arcadio Buendía at that time did
not believe in the honesty of gypsies, so he traded his mule and a
pair of goats for the two magnetized ingots. Úrsula Iguarán, his wife,
who relied on those animals to increase their poor domestic holdings,
was unable to dissuade him. “Very soon well have gold enough and
more to pave the floors of the house,” her husband replied. For
several months he worked hard to demonstrate the truth of his idea.
He explored every inch of the region, even the riverbed, dragging the
two iron ingots along and reciting Melquíades’ incantation aloud. The
only thing he succeeded in doing was to unearth a suit of fifteenthcentury
armor which had all of its pieces soldered together with rust
and inside of which there was the hollow resonance of an enormous
stone-filled gourd.

ramintork

ramintork I write about Iranian contemporary history in the form of stories and screenplays in order to bring the truth that the regime is so desperately trying to hide. My early Iranian.com contributions: http://iranian.com/main/member/ramintork.html

If you like this kind of art then you might enjoy this:

http://iranian.com/main/albums/most-influential-iranians.html