Musophob: Another ordinary grey working day is over. I leave the building, at the exit is one of the directors in a bright white jacket, smoking, talking to someone on the phone, no hurry. I say goodbye and go to the subway. The road goes straight seven minutes, without wheezing and not July, it goes through a beautiful park, distracting and giving pleasure, past the pond, around the berries, birds, and in general spring singing, the wind blows, far away the road noises, there are no people. What to do after the usual grey day. I get to the subway, I go down underground – and here on the other side of the underground crossing, the same director goes down and enters the glass doors. In a bright white jacket. He was still standing when I was leaving, he couldn’t overtake me as I would have noticed. The road is straight alone. The director does not run to the subway, that is, he could not overtake me on another side. Miracles and only. I approach him and tell him that I am surprised, that I don’t see magic often, and I don’t want to know how it happened. I remember loudly about the dividing director Nietzsche. My director smiles and answers, “It’s professional.” We enter the subway, I put on the headphones, slowly returning to my world, the director gets the book and starts reading. And on the cover of the book with bright white letters is the title: "Physics of the Impossible."