All things must pass but we are never truly prepared to believe that all of us must go. Forever.
I cannot really recall when I first discovered him. My earliest memory was of a deep blue cover sitting on my mother's night stand of One Hundred Years of Solitude when I was 6. Eventually the novel caught up to me and opened the gates of my mind to believe in the real and unreal. He changed, unequivocally, every single way I looked at things, how I perceived them and how I had not really understood until then. And I truly mean everything. My mother laid the foundation to all I am but he came along and opened the box. He was there for me in the saddest points in my life and also in the happiest.
I would not be able to see, hear or feel without him. I cannot imagine a being without access to his literature.
So very thankful for his gifts to me and all of us.
Gracias maestro. Te debo mucho.