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คืนเรือน | ชั้นหนังสือ | Memories of My Melancholy Whores
 
book MEMORIES OF MY MELANCHOLY WHORES : Gabriel García Márquez
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At the beginning of the new year we started to know each other as well as if we lived together awake, fot I had discovered a cautions tone of voice that she heard without waking, and she would answer me with the natural language of her body. Her states of mind could be seen in the way she slept. Exhausted and unpolished at first, she was approaching an inner peace that beautified her face and enriched her sleep. I told her about my life, I read into her ear the firsts of my Sunday columns in which, without my saying so, she and she alone was present.

During this time I left on her pillow a pair of emerald earrings that had belonged to my mother. She wore them to our next redezvous but they didn't look good on her. Then I brought a pair better suited to her skin color. I explained: The first ones I brought weren't right for your type and your haircut. These will look better. She didn't wear earring at all to our next two meetings, but for the third she put on the ones I had suggested. In this way I began to understand that she did not obey my orders but waited for an opportunity to please me. By now I felt so accustomed to this kind of domestic life that I no longer slept naked but wore the Chinese silk pajamas I had stopped using because I hadn't had anyone to take them off for.


คืนเรือน | ชั้นหนังสือ | Memories of My Melancholy Whores