In a trance, everything is possible. After school (1965), I, a village boy, decided to go to university, where I could study mathematics. Perhaps because it was the only subject at school that was easier for me than others. I clicked through the problems, especially geometry, amazingly quickly. The teacher, so that I would not be idle in class while the conditions of the problem for the weakest in the class were being explained, gave me the most difficult problems individually. So, it was decided, I will enter the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics! I chose the city of Vladivostok. And so, by train No. 186 from my village of Berezovka in the Amur region, my classmate and I traveled for almost two days to the distant city of Vladivostok. This was my first such a long trip. I had never been to a big city before and had no idea of ​​the scale and features of its life. Maybe watching movies in the cinema. We arrived early in the morning, and the city immediately overwhelmed us with its noise and crowdedness. At the station it was like being in an anthill, I stayed close to my classmate, she quickly got her bearings, we took a taxi and went to the place where her aunt lived (the Kutuzov trolleybus stop, as I found out later). I drank a cup of tea, left my things and I just took the documents and went to give them to the university admissions office. They put me on a trolleybus, they said that I had to go to the end, and then ask, they would say. Normally I got to the trolleybus stop near the park, and then on foot, as my classmate, her aunt, and passers-by explained to me, I got to the street. Sukhanova, 8, where the physics and mathematics building of the Far Eastern State University was located. Got directions to the hostel. And then a serious problem arose. Where are my things? Where does this aunt of my classmate live? I don’t know the address, I don’t know the name of the street, I don’t know the house and apartment number. I don’t know the last name and first name of this aunt (I’ve always had a memory for names bad, they tell me, but I forget them). I don’t know what exactly I used to get here, what the transport number was, what stop my aunt lives at? I’m alone in a big city, and I’m lost. I'm alone in the big city, a country boy. At school I was interested in tourism, going on multi-day hikes, but now this will not help me in any way. Dead end! I got into trouble. The first thing that came to my mind was to go to the police. I desperately broke through to the head of the district police department. The lieutenant colonel listened to my request to help me, asked questions that I did not know how to answer. In the end, I asked to show me a map of the city, he pointed to a wall-sized map, and I felt bad. Going on hikes and being able to navigate the terrain is one thing, but a map of the city is something unknowable, this layout of the area was incomprehensible to me. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t call home, I couldn’t give a telegram either, I didn’t have any money with me, everything was left in my aunt’s suitcase. Problem. I sat on a bench in the park and blankly looked at the people walking in the park. One thing I knew for sure was that the stop was the final one, and I knew where it was. I decided so, I take any transport and go back. I will look out the window on the same side of the street that I looked at when traveling to the university. So I did. I’m driving... something resonates in my body... yes, it seemed like there was this building... and this booth... and this is a cinema..... it seems like I passed this place too... So I drove for about twenty minutes , the trolleybus turned to the right... yes, it seemed like there was a turn, only to the left... that means it was right... several stops... something persistently pushed... I got up and got off at the stop.... realized that I needed to cross the road... crossed the road... where next? All the houses are like mushrooms... the same... five-story Khrushchev buildings... I went on a hunch... my inner voice (more like a feeling) said that this.... Which entrance?... I chose at random, again on a whim….What floor? I don’t know….on a whim…There are three apartments on the site….Which one? ... I called on a whim... They open... It was my classmate. Later I learned a story about Milton Erickson, a famous American psychotherapist, when he was still a boy. A horse wandered into their farm. And no one knew whose horse it was. There were several farms within a few miles. Milton said,.