Page 314
Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2026 1:16 pm
So, in the evening, after my journey into the world of people had ended —
even though it had been in some surreal world, seriously — I return home.
I am with my friends, who, naturally, do not speak Russian. We are standing
in the kitchen, night has fallen, and we are simply chatting about how
unusually the day went. And at some point, suddenly and out of nowhere,
I begin to speak about justice. About how people behave; how they have chosen
this “path of the beast”; how they all lie to themselves, to their loved ones,
and to me; how everyone tries to turn everything upside down — calling good
people bad and honest people dishonest — and how this will soon come to an
end. I begin to speak about this, and six hours pass. I finish this conversation
at 6:00 AM. For six hours, only I spoke. Naturally, I was communicating with
my friends, and they would ask something or comment, but it was all on this
theme: how much longer can this be tolerated? It’s as if it’s all lawlessness,
all this immorality, all these lies, all this phoniness. And what exactly
happened? Regarding this night, Big Alexander said, “That’s hardcore,” and
he repeated it about ten times. I discussed this with my friends the next day;
everyone had gone to their rooms, and when we woke up in the morning,
I immediately began keeping my journal to record everything. I asked my
friends to record their impressions too, and I started drawing them into a
conversation so they could describe it before it was too late, before they forgot.
Regarding the day, I’ve already said everything, and my friends all agreed: it was
like a movie, magical and unreal, with time moving completely differently —
it felt like we were on another planet. But that’s one thing.
When we started discussing the night, everyone noticed their own details, but
we all agreed on the core experience; it wasn’t just a separate impression for
each of us. All three of us felt and saw the same thing. One friend said to me:
— You spoke in English for six hours, but you don’t know English. Yet when
you were describing everything, I didn’t just understand what you were
saying — I felt it with my whole body and soul, almost through images and
imagination. It felt as if we weren’t just talking, but as if everything you
were thinking was inside my head!
even though it had been in some surreal world, seriously — I return home.
I am with my friends, who, naturally, do not speak Russian. We are standing
in the kitchen, night has fallen, and we are simply chatting about how
unusually the day went. And at some point, suddenly and out of nowhere,
I begin to speak about justice. About how people behave; how they have chosen
this “path of the beast”; how they all lie to themselves, to their loved ones,
and to me; how everyone tries to turn everything upside down — calling good
people bad and honest people dishonest — and how this will soon come to an
end. I begin to speak about this, and six hours pass. I finish this conversation
at 6:00 AM. For six hours, only I spoke. Naturally, I was communicating with
my friends, and they would ask something or comment, but it was all on this
theme: how much longer can this be tolerated? It’s as if it’s all lawlessness,
all this immorality, all these lies, all this phoniness. And what exactly
happened? Regarding this night, Big Alexander said, “That’s hardcore,” and
he repeated it about ten times. I discussed this with my friends the next day;
everyone had gone to their rooms, and when we woke up in the morning,
I immediately began keeping my journal to record everything. I asked my
friends to record their impressions too, and I started drawing them into a
conversation so they could describe it before it was too late, before they forgot.
Regarding the day, I’ve already said everything, and my friends all agreed: it was
like a movie, magical and unreal, with time moving completely differently —
it felt like we were on another planet. But that’s one thing.
When we started discussing the night, everyone noticed their own details, but
we all agreed on the core experience; it wasn’t just a separate impression for
each of us. All three of us felt and saw the same thing. One friend said to me:
— You spoke in English for six hours, but you don’t know English. Yet when
you were describing everything, I didn’t just understand what you were
saying — I felt it with my whole body and soul, almost through images and
imagination. It felt as if we weren’t just talking, but as if everything you
were thinking was inside my head!