“Son, have you ever heard of Colonel Aureliano Buendía?”
My father suddenly asked me a baffling question one day at dusk when I was twelve years old.
“Aureliano Bu… something… di?”
I used a great deal of effort to try and pronounce the words that were as awkward to pronounce as ‘Castilla’ while feeling at a loss.
“Aureliano Buendía.”
My father corrected my pronunciation and patted my shoulder.
Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод
http://tl.rulate.ru/book/78743/2376718
