Explanations

He walked from a plane, landing in San Francisco from his hometown of Mongolia. His breath was short, he gazed around with a stern expression reaching into the minds of those around him. He saw televisions, electronic frames connected to America's all seeing eye, an electronic picture frame, a mirror. It reminded him of an interrogation, where only one side of a mirror is clear, the other, translucent. He knew this television with its omniscient link. He walked in front of the television and swiped with his hand, muttering a few words of jumbled English and Mongolian like a lunatic. People passed by as if nothing had ever happened...


"Need money?" He asked, looking into my eyes. We were locked in a lunatic asylum without ever knowing when we would get out. He was from another country- I humorously began to wonder how safe visitors should feel in America.
Not such a great place to him, is it?

I spoke to him. I was probably one of the rare who could understand him, we talked of various subjects. He mentioned TV's were water and piss. I mentioned they were a part of the all seeing eye. He wouldn't speak English. He integrated a few languages, a few more than Mongolian, just so I could piece together what he was saying. He was trying to avoid having our government listen and understand him, hoping I was quicker than anyone who would be listening.

He waved his hand in front of the TV.
I knew, too.

What else shall we talk about? I asked him, knowing his knowledge is limitless. We spoke seriously of orange juice, the impact of candy, about his homeland and how he made his money. He should be set free, I thought.

We spoke for an hour. After a while he began to speak more fluently, where one of the five other people in the room could get the gist of his words. After a while he returned to English, although we dabbled between several linguistic structures, where most still could not understand
After our talk, he began to listen, he began to act less strange, he began to use his hand like a wand to alter the TV's subliminal messages less. I wasn't sure if I felt safer with his hand waving or not, but at least the doctors would think he was more sane.

They load him up with five types of pills.
I speak to him and inquire about his safety.
Who helps him, me or the doctors?

I wasn't sure if the betrayal felt stronger, or the humiliation.


He seemed to me a political prisoner thrown into a lunatic asylum because there, no one would ask questions.
He was not the only one.
There, they could pretend his actions and words were mere insanity,.There, few would ever listen to his perspective again. You deem someone crazy, even raise some sort of suspicion, most will refuse to listen again.

This man, a traveler, a visitor from another country. Could we imagine if his country did that to an American? Would our country care enough to save one us? I imagine myself in his country locked in an insane asylum, knowing my saneness perfectly well, without any choice regarding whether or not I would ever leave.

My mind turns to ee Cummings, locked away in France's concentration camps. A political prisoner. A man who knew things the world thought was crazy.

We once cared. We once did,
We were once honorable,
noble, valiant, and true.
Now, I'm not so sure.

He was the craziest one. He was the sanest one.
His story was the most tragic.

I wasn't sure if the betrayal felt stronger, or the humiliation.


I found a woman who walked around the lunatic bin announcing every thought she could utter, speaking at a fairly constant pace without stop all day long. She always held a stern expression, one which was viciously bitter at a world which rejected her. I hadn't seen her smile, nor laugh, only frown, glare, and speak bitterly.

She was absolutely abnormal.
She was absolutely normal.

I stood outside playing basketball, humans who are treated like cattle sat around me and cheered. I was wondering if the majority of them could safely touch a basketball, much less play. The bitter woman walked over and grabbed a ball. We played basketball. She smiled with me, looking into my eyes. She laughed after making a shot. Her bitterness was swept away like a breeze of fresh air. She appeared sane.

Later, I saw her inside. She never looked quite the same. Never as happy, and never as bitter, always with the smallest smile, always with the slightest twinkle in her eye. She paced less, she repeated phrases less, she no longer spoke rapidly her every thought. She became nearly the same as others, nearly... only slightly more happy.
The doctors numbed her, I brought her back to life.
Who helps, me or the doctors?

I would never return. It was one of the worst things I've seen my country do to humans, I wasn't sure if the betrayal felt stronger, or the humiliation.
I know who I am, I was smart enough to deny their pills.
Could she say the same?

I found the new people were more socially normal than the ones who had been there for a while. The pills made them more crazy. I knew. It scared even me. I never get scared.
The longer they stay, the worse it becomes.

I wasn't sure if the betrayal felt stronger, or the humiliation.


Another told me her mother was a celebrity, that she would get out quickly. I smiled. I said for sure. She smiled, too. She laughed.
I heard her speaking on the telephone.
I wish I didn't.

I wasn't sure if the betrayal felt stronger, or the humiliation.


Another told me her mother was a teacher who taught at a daycare. Mother Mary! Mother Mary! The kids would call to her. She began to tell everyone all she needed was coke to kill someone, a gift for a murder, she said. She told us how the police stole her laptop, how the police stole her money and took her there.
I knew who I was. I know who I am. Could she say the same?

I wasn't sure if the betrayal or the humiliation was stronger.

One said I was their doctor (I thought I was the doctor's doctor).
I actually listened.
I actually talked them through.
I actually helped them with their problems.
I actually knew their humanness wasn't lost.
I knew who I was. Could they say the same?


I wasn't sure if the betrayal or the humiliation was stronger.
(We caused the problems, we didn't fix them).
I wasn't sure if the betrayal or the humiliation was stronger.
(We caused their problems, we didn't fix them).

I wasn't sure if the betrayal or the humiliation was stronger.