When I was in the doghouse, I wrote in my mind that one day Colonel Garcia would stand before me in defeat and that I would avenge myself on all those who need to be avenged. But now I have begun to question my own hatred. Within a few short weeks, ever since I returned to the house. it seems to have become diluted, to have lost its sharp edge.
I am beginning to suspect that nothing that happens is fortuitous, that it all corresponds to a fate laid down before my birth, and that Esteban Garcia is part of the design. He is a crude, twisted line, but no brushstroke is in vain.
(emphasis mine)
The day my grandfather tumbled his grandmother, Pancha Garcia, among the rushes of the riverbank, he added added another link to the chain of events that had to complete itself. Afterward the grandson of the woman who was raped repeats the gesture with the granddaughter of the rapist, and perhaps forty years from now my grandson will knock Garcia's granddaughter down among the rushes and so on down through the centuries in an unending tale of sorrow, blood, and love.
I am beginning to suspect that nothing that happens is fortuitous, that it all corresponds to a fate laid down before my birth, and that Esteban Garcia is part of the design. He is a crude, twisted line, but no brushstroke is in vain.
(emphasis mine)
The day my grandfather tumbled his grandmother, Pancha Garcia, among the rushes of the riverbank, he added added another link to the chain of events that had to complete itself. Afterward the grandson of the woman who was raped repeats the gesture with the granddaughter of the rapist, and perhaps forty years from now my grandson will knock Garcia's granddaughter down among the rushes and so on down through the centuries in an unending tale of sorrow, blood, and love.
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