Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 'Eyes of a Blue Dog' is a story of the narrator's perspective of a woman who has been in search of a phrase that she believes leads her to him. Marquez begins the book with the narrator sitting in a chair. The woman is in his presence, rubbing an oil lamp. The two of them look at each other. Suddenly he says, 'eyes of a blue dog,' to which she replies that she can't remember where she has written that phrase. She has dedicated her life to finding the narrator based upon that phrase. With this in mind, she begins to describe all of the places she has been, uttering and writing that phrase. It is here where the narrator also comments about the phrase; he has problems actually remembering it. To his statement, she has problems remembering the place she first wrote it. The two see each other in this way for more than two years; they separate in the morning at the drop of a spoon. By the end of 'Eyes of a Blue Dog,' the two separate at dawn, waking up from their individual dreams.
In the story, the woman writes "Eyes of a blue dog" everywhere to remind the narrator who she is and where to find her. She writes all over the walls, on floor tiles, on a steamed mirror, and so on. I came up with a few drafts (and designed them very quickly) and below are other ideas I haven't gotten to draft up yet. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
So the first is an oil lamp with the title written all over the walls. The two characters meet each other in their dreams around an oil lamp and she writes all over the walls to remind him.
The second is the title written on tiled floor. It's smudged because the store clerk yelled at her for making a mess, so she tries to clean it up.
My other ideas were:
- A falling spoon because at the end of the book the narrator says, "Our meetings always ended that way, with the fall of a spoon early in the morning."
- An illustration of a woman sleeping on her heart, probably very abstract, because the woman in his dream says, "Sometimes, when I sleep on my heart, I can feel my body growing hollow and my skin is like plate. Then, when the blood beats inside me, it's as if someone were calling by knocking on my stomach and I can feel my own copper sound in the bed. It's like--what do you call it--laminated metal." She drew closer to the lamp. "I would have liked to hear you," I said. And she said: "If we find each other sometime, put your ear to my ribs when I sleep on the left side and you'll hear me echoing."
