My father was convinced that there is another life after death: connected with the cosmos, with the rebirth of a man. Once, sitting on the balcony of our cottage house, peering into the distance, he turned my eyes to the unusual path of motion of the star, which was not falling, but making geometrically clear lines landing on the top of Mount Ara, shone producing rays of unusual bluish color. Dad offered me to draw it the way I see it. At the same time he picked up a pencil and began to draw too to compare then our drawings. We both drew almost the same image of a certain machine in the form of a flying saucer. We cheered like children, convincing each other in the real existence of foreign civilizations. Years passed, dad has gone... But I believe, because I can’t disbelieve that my father could not disappear into nothingness. He took his place in the cosmic scheme of things, which presence I feel to this day.