During these years I made an effort to spend one hour strictly doing nothing. I was experimenting with trying to stop the flow of thoughts, and I was surprised at how impossible this turned out to be. For a short time I think I managed to stare completely into space. However, I had the strong suspicion that in those few minutes my mind clicked into rapid-erase mode. I was born to be idle, but stupid I was not. The compulsion to think made me helpless. I was my own failure, a headless stump of will. Looking at it from this angle, my idleness became more justified, so I -increased the dosage until I spent the whole day just lying around. My mother stormed into my room and yelled, ''you''re a parasite, do you know that?!'' But when she had a good look at my sorry state, she left the room in silence. I wrote a poem and stuck it on the wall. `I hold together the nation / from my high school station.''
Then I buried my head in my pillow for the rest time.
"Once upon a time, there was a prostitute called Maria"-thus begins Coelho's latest novel, a book that cannot decide whether it wants to be fairy tale or saga of sexual discovery, so ends up satisf...
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