GURDJIEFF, G.I. – Life is real only then, when I am - Integral Book

I decide to go to such a place in the hope of meeting, perhaps in one ofthe cafes or chaikhanas, someone of my acquaintance.I am barely moving through narrow streets, and come across only smallashkhanas, where only the Tekinians sit.I am weakening more and more, and in my thoughts already flashes asuspicion that I may lose consciousness.I sit down on the terrace in front of the first chaikhana I pass, and askfor some green tea.While drinking tea, I come to—thank God!—and look around on thespace dimly lit by the street lantern.I see a tall man with a long beard, in European clothing, pass by thechaikhana.His face seems familiar. I stare at him while he, already coming near,also looking at me very intently, passes on.Proceeding further, he turns around several times and looks again atme.I take a risk and call after him in Armenian:"Either I know you, or you know me!"He stops, and looking at me, suddenly exclaims, "Ah! Black Devil!"and walks back. It was enough for me to hear his voice, and already I knew who he was.He was no other than my distant relative, the former police courtinterpreter.I already knew that several years before he had been exiled to someplace in the Transcaspian region, but to where I did not know.