“…Memory becomes a cataract that threatens to drown her, and Inez Prada wakes with a cry. She isn’t in a cave. She’s in a suite at the Savoy in London. She casts a sideways glance at the telephone, the hotel notepad and pencils, to reassure herself. Where am I? An opera singer often doesn’t know where she is or where she’s just come from.”
– from INEZ, (Carlos Fuentes)