“The prose is so thick that to me it has the closeness of a summer day; you can feel yourself choking on the humidity, feel the grit of Macondo sticking to the back of your neck, and all you want to do is lie on the tile floor, eat a banana, and sweat.” Honoring literature with pie — a frozen banana pie, for One Hundred Years of Solitude.

via (He Was To Remember) — Discover