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<title>the alchemist</title>
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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
“Two days ago, you said that I had never dreamed of travel,” the
merchant answered. “The fifth obligation of every Muslim is a
pilgrimage. We are obliged, at least once in our lives, to visit the
holy city of Mecca.
“Mecca is a lot farther away than the Pyramids. When I was
young, all I wanted to do was put together enough money to start
this shop. I thought that someday I’d be rich, and could go to Mecca.
I began to make some money, but I could never bring myself to
leave someone in charge of the shop; the crystals are delicate things.
At the same time, people were passing my shop all the time, heading
for Mecca. Some of them were rich pilgrims, traveling in caravans
with servants and camels, but most of the people making the
pilgrimage were poorer than I.
“All who went there were happy at having done so. They placed
the symbols of the pilgrimage on the doors of their houses. One of
them, a cobbler who made his living mending boots, said that he had
traveled for almost a year through the desert, but that he got more
tired when he had to walk through the streets of Tangier buying his
leather.”
“Well, why don’t you go to Mecca now?” asked the boy.
“Because it’s the thought of Mecca that keeps me alive. That’s
what helps me face these days that are all the same, these mute
crystals on the shelves, and lunch and dinner at that same horrible
café. I’m afraid that if my dream is realized, I’ll have no reason to go
on living.
“You dream about your sheep and the Pyramids, but you’re
different from me, because you want to realize your dreams. I just
want to dream about Mecca. I’ve already imagined a thousand times
crossing the desert, arriving at the Plaza of the Sacred Stone, the
seven times I walk around it before allowing myself to touch it. I’ve
already imagined the people who would be at my side, and those in
front of me, and the conversations and prayers we would share. But
I’m afraid that it would all be a disappointment, so I prefer just to
dream about it.”
That day, the merchant gave the boy permission to build the
display. Not everyone can see his dreams come true in the same
way.
TWO MORE MONTHS PASSED, AND THE SHELF BROUGHT many customers
into the crystal shop. The boy estimated that, if he worked for six
more months, he could return to Spain and buy sixty sheep, and yet
another sixty. In less than a year, he would have doubled his flock,
and he would be able to do business with the Arabs, because he was
now able to speak their strange language. Since that morning in the
marketplace, he had never again made use of Urim and Thummim,
because Egypt was now just as distant a dream for him as was
Mecca for the merchant. Anyway, the boy had become happy in his
work, and thought all the time about the day when he would
disembark at Tarifa as a winner.
</p>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 23</h5>
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