The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho

careful about what the neighbors will think, he said, laughing.
    The fireworks started up again, as musicians climbed to the bandstand and tuned their
     instruments. The festi- val was about to begin.
    I looked up at the sky. It was growing dark, and the stars were beginning to appear.
     Petrus went over to one of the waiters and brought back two plastic cups full of wine.
    It is good luck to have a drink before the party begins, he said, handing me one of the
     cups. Have some of this. It will help you forget about the popcorn man.
    I wasnt even thinking about him anymore.
    Well, you should. Because what happened with him is an example of mistaken behavior. We
     are always trying to convert people to a belief in our own explana- tion of the universe.
     We think that the more people there are who believe as we do, the more certain it will be
     that what we believe is the truth. But it doesnt work that way at all.
    Look around. Here is a huge party about to begin. A commemoration. Many different things
     are being cele- brated simultaneously: the fathers hope that his daugh- ter would marry,
     the daughters wish for the same thing, the grooms dreams. Thats good, because they believe
     in their dreams and want to demonstrate to everyone that they have achieved their goals.
     It is not a party that is being held to convince anyone of anything, so its going to be a
     lot of fun. From what I can see, they are people who have fought the good fight of love.
    But you are trying to convince me, Petrus, by guid- ing me along the Road to Santiago.
    He gave me a cold look.
    I am only teaching you the RAM practices. But you will find your sword only if you
     discover that the Road and the truth and the life are in your heart.
    Petrus pointed to the sky, where the stars were now clearly visible.
    There is no religion that is capable of bringing all of the stars together, because if
     this were to happen, the universe would become a gigantic, empty space and would lose its
     reason for existence. Every star and every person has their own space and their own spe-
     cial characteristics. There are green stars, yellow stars, blue stars, and white stars,
     and there are comets, mete- ors and meteorites, nebulas and rings. What appear from down
     here to be a huge number of bodies that are similar to each other are really a million
     different things, spread over a space that is beyond human com- prehension.
    A rocket from the fireworks burst, and its light obscured the sky for a moment. A shower
     of brilliant green streamers fell to the ground.
    Earlier, we only heard their noise because of the daylight. Now we can see their light,
     Petrus said. Thats the only change people can aspire to.
    The bride came out of the church, and people shouted and threw their handfuls of rice. She
     was a thin girl of about sixteen, and she held the arm of a boy in a tuxedo. The
     congregation appeared and began to move toward the square.
    Look, theres the colonel ... Oh, look at the brides dress. How beautiful, said some boys
     near us. The guests took their places at the tables, the waiters served the wine, and the
     band began to play. The popcorn vendor was surrounded by a mob of screaming boys who made
     their purchases and then scattered the empty
    bags on the ground. I imagined that for the townspeo- ple of Logro–o, at least that night,
     the rest of the world with its threat of nuclear war, unemployment, and murders did not
     exist. It was a festival night, the tables had been placed in the square for the people,
     and every- one felt important.
    A television crew came toward us, and Petrus averted his face. But the men passed us by,
     heading for one of the guests who sat near us. I recognized immediately who he was:
     Antonio, the man who had led the Spanish fans in their cheers at the World Cup in Mexico
     in 1986. When the interview was over, I went up to him and told him that I was a
     Brazilian; feigning anger, he