Alexandr Korol

“That’s a mistake, it needs to be corrected.” That’s the instinct there: to always want to correct everything. And naturally, if you’re in the underworld — well, depending on what kind of person you are there, whether a troublemaker or the one who punishes the troublemakers, the one who seeks justice — you’d still react in that same framework. You might snap at the waiter and say: “How could you forget? Shame on you!” Or you might respond kindly but still with that undertone of justice, saying: “That’s not right,” and demand the food. The reactions could vary, but they would all follow the same logic. And now imagine — in the world of the sky, you take it all as help from above. That’s the whole essence, the fairy-tale quality of this world of the sky. You understand: if they didn’t bring the food, then it means you simply don’t need to eat. Maybe the food there is bad, maybe after eating it you’d feel unwell — so if it wasn’t brought, then you weren’t meant to have it. No need to reorder, no need to correct anything. And that’s what’s so fascinating — this subtle adjustment between you and nature. It’s as if the world itself adjusts to you, creating little moments, and you accept them as though it’s God’s will, the way it was meant to be. In this world of the sky, there are no worries about these everyday, technical little details, no strain to “fix” them — because it feels like things are already right as they are. And then I begin to remember — I had written about this before in my books. I had already lived like this. I even recall, about ten years ago, I gave the very same examples. But of course, just because I mentioned them ten years ago doesn’t mean that I was in this world back then. If I was able to recall and describe it, it means I had already left that world and could look back at it from outside, remembering. Which means that in the world of the sky itself, I must have been even earlier. But that’s not the point.

I described moments like that — when I could, figuratively speaking, forget my phone in a café. Because I avoided tension so much, I wouldn’t want to run back for it, the way people normally do. To avoid that whole fuss, I could simply accept it as a fact and later just go and buy another phone, but not go back with all the commotion and worry the way people usually do. And now I’m starting to recall — with effort, of course — but a whole series of such moments, where it had already been like this before.