In Paris, strolling arm in arm with a casual girlfriend on a late autumn, it seemed impossible to conceive that purer than those golden afternoons, with the smell of chestnuts montuno in the braziers, the languid accordions, lovers insatiable kissing just not ever in the open terraces, however, he had said the hand on heart that he was not willing to change all that for a moment of his Caribbean in April. It was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad memories and magnifies the good, and thanks to this artifice we manage to overcome the past. But when she returned to see from the ship's rail white promontory of the colonial district, the motionless buzzards on the roofs, poor clothes stretched out to dry on balconies, only then realized how far had been an easy victim of cheating charities of nostalgia. Gabriel García
Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
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