“He wandered Comala's lonely streets, his footsteps scaring off dogs that were sniffing through the garbage.He made it as far as the river, where he passed the time staring at still pools of water that reflected the light of the stars falling from the heavens. He stayed for several hours, wrestling with his thoughts and tossing them into the black water of the river.” MourningPensivePensivity Book:Pedro Páramo Source: Pedro Páramo