Where is the place we go to when we are mad? For it is an other place: the landmarks are unfamiliar, the language is strange, the people are different. The meaning has changed. Places once visited daily are suddenly sacred shrines, or hellish pits. Someone says something to you and it is as if they hint at some other thing not said, that you can't quite get a hold of. People you've known all your life — they become angels, they become demons, they become gods, they become machines. Somehow, we understand so much more, and we understand so much less. We become part of a myth, we are foreigners never getting accustomed, none of what we think is happening is happening. Where do we go? It is here, but our eyes: our eyes are somewhere else.
Vanessa
9:49pm friday, 19th december
I don't agree, but you phrased it so well that I can't any longer explain why ....
Vanessa