In Gabriel García Márquez's "Cien años de soledad" (1967), after many days wandering through a "región encantada", José Arcadio Buendía wakes up to a sunny morning and sees, far from the ocean, a ship: "Frente a ellos, rodeado de helechos y palmeras, blanco y polvoriento en la silenciosa luz de la mañana, estaba un enorme galeón español." Anachronistically, for me this galleon echoes the beached boat in Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go" (2005): "I could now see how its paint was cracking, and how the timber frames of the little cabin were crumbling away. It had once been painted a sky blue, but now looked almost white under the sky." (Andrew Shields, #111words, 5 February 2022)
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