When he finally identified him, startled that the dead also aged, José Arcadio Buendía, felt himself shaken by the nostalgia. “Prudencio,” he exclaimed. “You have come a from long way off!”
After many years of death the yearning for the living was so intense, the need for company so pressing, so terrifying the nearness of that other death which exists within the death, that Prudencio Aguilar had ended up loving his worst enemy. He had spent a great deal of time looking for him. He asked the dead from Riohacha about him, the dead who came from the Upar Valley, those who came from the Swamp, and no one could tell him because Macondo was a town that was unknown to the dead until Melquiades arrived and marked it with a small black dot on the motley maps of death.
-Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude)
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