He casually walks into a tiny downtown restaurant, holding his folded trench coat over his arm while gripping the handrail with the other hand as he climbs the narrow stairs.

From his curious gaze and eyes looking around every corner of the restaurant, it's easy to tell he's Israeli. But it's not so easy to realize that you're actually in the presence of a true genius—one you don't come across often, or perhaps, ever!

He looks me over carefully from head to toe. Out of politeness, I say the ten words I know in Hebrew, and

instead of saying, "Good day," he sits down, looks at me again,

and says, "I really like talking to people who love what they do because I am exactly the same."

I'm not surprised, at least not initially, because I know it shows from miles away. And we start talking about all sorts of topics—from the beauty of Bulgaria to the audience in Sofia who is expecting his appearance on the "Slavi's Show" TV show, and even touch on the legendary phrase of former U.S. President Bill Clinton: "Lior, I don't understand why Israel lets you travel all around the world. They should ask you to sit at the Iranian border and make use of your abilities there."

My conversation partner smiles slightly. He's heard many things about himself from different people and tells me, "If it were that easy, I would have probably stayed there, but I'm not a military expert, and I travel constantly. I'm on the plane every other day, and soon, the number of countries I've been to will reach a hundred."

It's not easy to talk to a genius, honestly.

Lior Suchard is practically the most famous mentalist in the world, and when I ask him what that means, he casually and offhandedly tells me:

"Maxim, I can explain this in one sentence, but I see you're very pragmatic, and I'm afraid you won't understand.

Being a mentalist is being able to direct the thoughts

of my conversation partners in a specific direction, and then it's easy to understand their thoughts."

"Okay," I counter, "let's assume there's really a technique to this knowledge. Can it be learned? Is there a textbook for it? Can someone start sending messages to people's brains and read their thoughts just because they've finished a course, for example."

"Well, you rather have to carry it in your heart and mind. You can learn the techniques but still need special skills to apply them. I probably carried them from birth."

That reassures me because I think of our legendary Bulgarian prophetess, Vanga. Still, throughout the conversation, my brain works fully, trying to understand how this works.

Lior already senses that he won't be able to have a normal lunch because he's facing someone who wants to figure everything out thoroughly and begins to explain in detail.

Here's his monologue in a few points:

"To be a mentalist is not just to know what people think but to create a perfect show out of it. Predicting the future is forbidden, and you must never interfere in people's personal lives..."

And more.

One of his main "assistants" in his business is harnessing positive energy, also known as "chi"—the Chinese term which can also sound like "ki" or "chai"—the Japanese, Hebrew, or Sanskrit words for energy and life force. According to Lior, this is the natural energy in the Universe from which everything is made. According to his understanding, it exists both in our bodies and outside of them, and the more capable we are of harnessing and extracting it from ourselves, the more energetic and vital we become. But—he warns me nonetheless—

not everyone can do this.

At just four years old, during dinner, his parents noticed how he moved a spoon from one end of the table to the other just by looking at it. For little Lior, this was natural, and those around him immediately realized something serious was happening. I understand that you must carry it in your essence whatever "chi" he talks about.

"My mission is to put on a show, not to predict, forecast, or analyze," Lior tells me and continues. It's important for me that people understand that no matter how hard they try, their secrets can be uncovered, but they should learn this in the most attractive and positive way possible, without being scared."

It's easy to tell stories, but the proof is in the hundreds, if not thousands, of videos of Lior on YouTube and many other places, showing genuinely shocked and confused people like TV hosts, politicians, business people, and even ordinary passersby who don't know him. He doesn't know them, and their thoughts are read in seconds. That often scares them but also warns that no one can hide anything from anyone in today's world.

Lior guesses their credit card PINs, business partners' phone numbers, and the names of people

no one would think they were thinking of. The episode with American TV host Larry King is legendary; Lior guessed the name of his first school love, whom King swore he never mentioned to anyone. "Such a person cannot exist. I have never seen such a miracle, and I have seen everything," says the stunned Larry King on his show.

And still, I insist—how does this happen? Lior tells me it's "simple"—

he uses his five senses

—sight, smell, hearing, touch, and taste—to create a sixth sense with which he reads the body language of the person before him. Through years of experience and practice, he perceives vast amounts of information in seconds, and using his intuition, he manages to enter others' thoughts.

Since he's already glancing at his watch impatiently and sees my rather skeptical look, he suddenly turns to me and asks me to think of a random name of a random person. I decided it should be something extravagant that he couldn't possibly connect me to, and the name of Danny Faure, the Seychelles President at the time, comes to my mind.

Lior Suchard reached across his plate, took a paper napkin, wrote something on it with a black marker, carefully folded it several times, and handed it to me. I read the name "Danny" written on it in neat handwriting, then threw it away and promised to read his book, which had just been translated into Bulgarian.

I'm so upset that I don't do it. It is something you cannot learn.