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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
He stuck his hand into the pouch, and felt around for one of the
stones. As he did so, both of them pushed through a hole in the
pouch and fell to the ground. The boy had never even noticed that
there was a hole in his pouch. He knelt down to find Urim and
Thummim and put them back in the pouch. But as he saw them lying
there on the ground, another phrase came to his mind.
“Learn to recognize omens, and follow them,” the old king had
said.
An omen. The boy smiled to himself. He picked up the two
stones and put them back in his pouch. He didn’t consider mending
the hole—the stones could fall through any time they wanted. He
had learned that there were certain things one shouldn’t ask about,
so as not to flee from one’s own Personal Legend. “I promised that I
would make my own decisions,” he said to himself.
But the stones had told him that the old man was still with him,
and that made him feel more confident. He looked around at the
empty plaza again, feeling less desperate than before. This wasn’t a
strange place; it was a new one.
After all, what he had always wanted was just that: to know new
places. Even if he never got to the Pyramids, he had already traveled
farther than any shepherd he knew. Oh, if they only knew how
different things are just two hours by ship from where they are, he
thought. Although his new world at the moment was just an empty
marketplace, he had already seen it when it was teeming with life,
and he would never forget it. He remembered the sword. It hurt him
a bit to think about it, but he had never seen one like it before. As he
mused about these things, he realized that he had to choose
between thinking of himself as the poor victim of a thief and as an
adventurer in quest of his treasure.
“I’m an adventurer, looking for treasure,” he said to himself.
HE WAS SHAKEN INTO WAKEFULNESS BY SOMEONE. HE had fallen asleep in
the middle of the marketplace, and life in the plaza was about to
resume.
Looking around, he sought his sheep, and then realized that he
was in a new world. But instead of being saddened, he was happy.
He no longer had to seek out food and water for the sheep; he could
go in search of his treasure, instead. He had not a cent in his pocket,
but he had faith. He had decided, the night before, that he would be
as much an adventurer as the ones he had admired in books.
He walked slowly through the market. The merchants were
assembling their stalls, and the boy helped a candy seller to do his.
The candy seller had a smile on his face: he was happy, aware of
what his life was about, and ready to begin a day’s work. His smile
reminded the boy of the old man—the mysterious old king he had
met. “This candy merchant isn’t making candy so that later he can
travel or marry a shopkeeper’s daughter. He’s doing it because it’s
what he wants to do,” thought the boy. He realized that he could do
the same thing the old man had done—sense whether a person was
near to or far from his Personal Legend. Just by looking at them. It’s
easy, and yet I’ve never done it before, he thought.
When the stall was assembled, the candy seller offered the boy
the first sweet he had made for the day. The boy thanked him, ate it,
and went on his way. When he had gone only a short distance, he
realized that, while they were erecting the stall, one of them had
spoken Arabic and the other Spanish.
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 18</h5>
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