April 29, 1955 (Date has no significance, just pretty late in Marquez's life)

Dear Diary,

I have not written in my journal, you, for the longest time. A lot has happened since the last time and I will backtrack a little bit later on. However, today was a day that will forever change my life. Today Melquiades and myself have attempted to create a personification of something impossible, perpetual motion, and have failed. I think I may have lost my senses but am not sure because I just cannot tell. Other townsmen for some reason attacked me today. As of right now, I am lashed to a tree and really cannot move from this position. All I can do is move my legs and write. So it is now a good time to catch up on things that I have long awaited to put on paper. As...