Violeta [English Edition]: A Novel

implacable,

There’s a time to live and a time to die. In between there’s time to remember.

No one knows what really goes on within a couple’s inner sanctum or why someone might put up with things that others deem inexcusable.

According to the poem by Antonio Machado, “there is no road, the road is made by walking,” but in my case it felt more like I was stumbling down narrow, winding paths that were often swallowed up by vegetation.

The rural women taught me that courage is contagious and that there’s strength in numbers; what you can’t do on your own can be achieved together, the more the better.

Her eternal illness is the reason for my good health; in order to avoid following in her footsteps, I’ve lived my life proudly ignoring any and all ailments. That’s how I learned that, in general, things clear up on their own.

“Exert some independence; you’re not a little girl. You can’t let anyone else decide things for you. You have to take care of yourself in this world,” she said.

That’s how I spent my adolescence, our period of Exile, which I remember as the most diaphanous time of my life.

No nation had wanted to report the true number of deaths. Only Spain, who had remained neutral in the conflict, shared news of the illness, which is why it ended up being called the Spanish influenza.