I remember very well the content of the diary, my memory has always been extraordinary, and now I wake up in the night and I remember the entire text of "Faust" and "Eugene Onegin". It was not exactly a diary, a diary of it was just the date that probably played the role of titles or chapters. The content of the diary consisted of memories and predictions. They impressed me for its accuracy. If this blog and I'd survived it made public, my place would be in a psychiatric hospital. Perhaps this is what my mother was afraid and decided to destroy it. Now, when civilization has reached a deadlock, wandering along the path of the material world, the world can be puzzled other matters that can not be touched or seen through a microscope.