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[Alexandr Korol]

If, back then in that state, a person came to me as a guest, then left my house, and I asked him what was in my house, what color the walls were, what color the kitchen was — anything at all — the person couldn’t remember anything at all. He didn’t understand, he couldn’t remember. And why? Because from the moment he came to my house as a guest, he was, as it were, in my head, and I in his — as if we had only been talking about something, and everything else was, as it were, unimportant. In general, there are many films where something similar is shown. It’s because of the focus of attention — it’s all the management of attention. This was shown very well. I don’t remember what the film was called — it seems it was “The Adventures of Shurik,” a Soviet film, where he, a student, was getting ready for an exam, and together with a girl he came to her apartment. And she didn’t notice that this was a stranger — a boy; she thought that her female friend was walking next to her and reading a book. And he was so absorbed in the book that he didn’t even understand that he had come to her apartment, that they were even eating together — but they were so deeply absorbed in the book by their attention, getting ready for the exam. This is similar. That is — it happens in this way, when I am in this state, when a person starts to talk with me, and I with him. Everything else disappears. Yes — very similar.

When I was in that state, how did it work? Well — in this state there was an insane fearlessness — that is, you simply cannot think, and consequently, you cannot fear either, but neither do you feel the temperature. And so it turns out that if back then I went outside on my own, I didn’t care if it was minus 20 degrees — I could calmly be in just a T-shirt. Well, or I could simply throw on some kind of jacket, but all of this was, as it were, just for show. In essence, I didn’t understand what the temperature outside was — but there was always more heat than cold. That I can remember. But this wasn’t from the rooms. When it was hot outside, I didn’t feel it, just as I didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the freezing temperatures. But I felt that at certain moments there was also a chemical bond, a reaction with people, coming from me. I don’t know what this is. But the point is — my palms would burn. My palms would heat up very strongly — I couldn’t clench them, couldn’t hold my hands lowered, turned palms towards my legs, because it was hot. And I always opened these palms forward just a little, so that they would, as it were, breathe — a very strong heat would come from the palms. That also happened.