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[Alexandr Korol]

Chapter 2. “Laguid”, “Corridor”, “Nameless”

So, as it turns out, I was explaining how the entire world of the living is structured. In this fifth volume, I now need to delve into what life after death is, where people go, how they live, how it all happens, and how it’s divided into different parts. This is what I’ve noted as interesting. Now, moving on. Yesterday... Well, I was still in such a state of overwhelm that I couldn’t even string words together to express it. I hope I can do so now. I’ve more or less regained my composure, though, believe me, the state I was in yesterday was much better. You’ll understand as I explain. The point is, on the 24th, I started realizing: “Wait, could I be dead?” Then I began having other realizations. I started asking myself questions. When I was a child, it felt as if I wasn’t in the world of humans. It was like there was this world of the living where everyone lives, where people are settled, they have children, families, jobs, and life embraces them. And I felt like I was in a parallel reality, like in some kind of “corridor,” observing everything from the outside, knowing everything about everyone. But I didn’t understand who I was, with the strange feeling that I had already lived as humans do and had experienced all their lives. What could this mean? When I began writing about this in my books, an enormous number of readers started agreeing with me, saying they felt the same way. They told me that even if they start families or have children, it doesn’t help; in fact, it often makes things worse for them. And no matter what job they have, it doesn’t matter to them. They try to live like everyone else, but they can’t. It’s as if they’re in some kind of “corridor” or vacuum, observing everything from the outside. And yet, they feel and see things just as I do. And when I described this in my journals as a child, the people who read them were shocked and didn’t understand. They said I had written everything that was in their hearts and souls, and they wondered how that could be. What else did I write back then? I wrote that this world of humans is strange – it’s not my world, it’s some other world. And I expressed myself by saying that there is my world, where I came from. I wrote this without censorship back then, because I was little, and I didn’t control what I wrote, unafraid of judgment from malicious people. I wrote sincerely, as it was. How did I always write my first books? “You humans... this isn’t right, this isn’t how it should be. Why do you act like this? If you keep behaving