Despite completely surrendering to the unconscious pleasure, he understood what was about to happen to him, but he didn't want to stop. He continued. He continued with extreme pleasure, until he expelled from within himself what made him a man: his semen, at the same time that he let out what made him human: his soul.
The only thing that remained afterwards was a saturated, empty body. The man of the scream was dead. The man of the scream was a man who walked and had taken a pause after almost a century of uninterrupted walking. He was ninety-nine years old and died knowing that he would become a father for the third time. His wife would find out a few weeks later.
A marvelous novel of magical realism, in the tradition of Juan Rulfo and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.