I want to say something else and I can’t... My thoughts are spinning like birds of fire, and my soul is burning as if on fire. Vague images appear before me. I am unable to stay in these halls, I am drawn into the air, beyond the walls of the Smolny Monastery. I fly as if on wings, rushing along long corridors, leaving my friends in bewilderment. I take a cab and beg him to go to Fontanka as soon as possible. Something pushes me, something drives me forward... The desire to write poetry, as happened in the days of youth and adolescence? Pour out your thoughts on paper in a diary? No, this is something else, for which there is no name yet, no name, which is still completely new and incomprehensible to me...