the same chain that had caused him to become a shepherd, that had caused his recurring dream,
that had brought him to a city near Africa, to find a king, and to be robbed in order to meet a crystal merchant, and…
The closer one gets to realizing his Personal Legend, the more that Personal Legend becomes his true reason for being, thought the boy.
The caravan moved toward the east. It traveled during the morning, halted when the sun was at its strongest,
and resumed late in the afternoon. The boy spoke very little with the Englishman, who spent most of his time with his books.
The boy observed in silence the progress of the animals and people across the desert.
Now everything was quite different from how it was that day they had set out:
then, there had been confusion and shouting, the cries of children and the whinnying of animals,
all mixed with the nervous orders of the guides and the merchants.
But, in the desert, there was only the sound of the eternal wind, and of the hoofbeats of the animals.
Even the guides spoke very little to one another. “I’ve crossed these sands many times,” said one of the camel drivers one night.
“But the desert is so huge, and the horizons so distant, that they make a person feel small, and as if he should remain silent.”
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