Adultery by Paulo Coelho Read Free Book Online

on itself. He needs to look for something that will give him a little joy, like sailing, or going to the movies, or reading.
    “No, that’s not it. You don’t understand.” He seems startled by my response.
    I do understand. Every day we’re bombarded with information and images—with adolescents in heavy makeup pretending to be grown women as they advertise miraculouscreams promising eternal beauty; with the story of an aging couple who climbed Mount Everest to celebrate their wedding anniversary; with new massage gizmos, and pharmacy windows that are chockablock with slimming products; with movies that give an entirely false impression of reality, and books promising fantastic results; with specialists who give advice about how to succeed in life or find inner peace. And all these things make us feel old, make us feel that we’re leading dull, unadventurous lives as our skin grows ever more flaccid, and the pounds pile on irrevocably. And yet we feel obliged to repress our emotions and our desires, because they don’t fit with what we call “maturity.”
    Choose what information you listen to. Place a filter over your eyes and ears and allow in only things that won’t bring you down, because we have our day-to-day life to do that. Do you think I don’t get judged and criticized at work? Well, I do—a lot! But I’ve decided to hear only the things that encourage me to improve, the things that help me correct my mistakes. Otherwise, I will just pretend I can’t hear the other stuff or block it out.
    I came here in search of a complicated story involving adultery, blackmail, and corruption. But you’ve dealt with it all in the best possible way. Can’t you see that?
    Without thinking, I sit down again and grasp his head so that he can’t escape. I give him a long kiss. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then responds. Immediately, all my feelings of impotence, fragility, failure, and insecurity are replaced by one of immense euphoria. From one moment to the next, I have suddenly become wise, I have regained control of the situation and dared to do something that before I could only imagine. I have ventured into unknown territory and dangerous waters, destroying pyramids and building sanctuaries.
    I am once again the mistress of my thoughts and my actions.What seemed impossible this morning has become reality this afternoon. I can feel again, and I can love something I don’t possess. The wind has ceased to bother me and has become instead a blessing, like the caress of a god on my cheek. I have my soul back.
    Hundreds of years seem to pass during the short time the kiss lasts. We separate slowly, and, as he gently strokes my hair, we look deep into each other’s eyes.
    And we find exactly what was there before.
    Sadness.
    Now with the addition of a stupid, irresponsible gesture that, at least in my case, will only make matters worse.
    We spend another half an hour together, talking about the city and its inhabitants as if nothing had happened. We seemed very close when we arrived at the park, and we became one when we kissed. Now, however, we are two complete strangers, trying to keep the conversation going just long enough so that we can each go our separate ways without too much embarrassment.
    No one saw us—we’re not in a restaurant. Our marriages are safe.
    I consider apologizing, but know it’s not necessary. After all, it was only a kiss.

I CAN’T honestly say that I feel victorious, but at least I’ve recovered some self-control. At home, everything carries on as usual; before I was in a terrible state, and now I’m feeling better. No one asks me how I am.
    I’m going to follow Jacob König’s example and talk to my husband about my strange state of mind. I’ll confide in him, and I’m sure he’ll be able to help me.
    On the other hand, I feel so good today; why spoil it by confessing to things I don’t even understand myself? I continue to struggle. I don’t believe that what