“There were two or three of them, maybe four. Nobody knew exactly how much. None of those with whom I later spoke and with whom the same thing happened as with me. I drank beer at Rechny, just stood on the street, looking at the autumn sky, how the gray in some places turned black and then turned white. Well, they suddenly came up. They were all wearing white jackets. “Hello,” one of them said. I shrugged my shoulders in surprise, making it clear that this was some kind of mistake. He grinned, and the one who was to his left also said: “Hello.” Then I had not yet noticed that they had the same faces, but, apparently, subconsciously this was somehow deposited in me, and when the third, and then the fourth, greeted me, I felt uneasy.”