“You are reading The Alchemist again?! Why?” Fafa asked me this morning when he saw the paperback on my bedside table.
“I am reading it for the first time” I confessed to his surprise.
I didn’t plan to not read The Alchemist. It’s just, for some reason, I hadn’t gotten around to it. Which, I know, is a bit weird coming from someone who read books just because it was recommended by semi-influencers on IG (next on the list: Can’t We Talk about Something More Pleasant? by Roz Chast. A recommendation by a Singaporean blogger).
Unfortunately, The Alchemist had managed to stay outside my book-craze radar for the most of my reading life. At least until last Sunday, when I had a boozy heart to heart conversation with Aina. We were talking about how, at times, it takes more time for us to learn something about ourselves even when it’s painfully obvious to those around us. That’s when she quoted the book. When I told her I have yet to read it, she gave me the most concerned look I have ever gotten from her. Enough to make my drunken self order the book (the 25th edition of the paperback was cheaper than the Kindle version) immediately after I got home that night.
To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation– The Alchemist
It arrived today, and I have just started it. Now, please tell me, I am not the only one who hasn’t read it!