One Hundred Years Of Love.

I touched Marquez's Solitude after half a decade

Again.

I figured that my relationships so far

Have had a similarity with the village of Macondo

At the time of Arcadio Buendia

For all of them seem to be so recent

And invariably ephemeral

That most are devoid of names.

And to speak about them

It often becomes necessary for me to

Point.