"I'm like a child staring up at the clock at school." He said, this is the sort of disconnected thing that you have to follow with these patients because when you do, oftentimes they end things up in a beautiful way, this is what I have learned. "I'm like a child staring up at a clock on the wall at school, and I don't even see the map of the world next to it, and that's the thing that is ticking away and not the clock. Everyone is ticking away, all of us, and we don't see it because we're focused on the thing that's moving." This is a sentiment that is repeated a lot in here. The world is moving on, and we the witnesses and the victims and the perpetrators are not, because we are beholden to some sort of different time scale than that which rules the outside walls.
I go home to my apartment and think about these things. Then I go to work, I do not work full time at the hospital. They should call it an asylum like they did in the old days, because nobody is getting better, they are only accepting that the staff along with everyone else will become indifferent to them, just like everyone else in their lives. Eventually everyone will stop visiting, parents, siblings, wives, children, everyone stops visiting in the end. Life covers up profundity with reality, and so it goes.
Here sits Henry, a boat against the current, and I can't help but agree with him. He is too small on the inside, and so are all of us. The thing is though that the space that we try to fill is becoming increasingly infinite. We are all trying to bridge an ocean, and Henry is the only person I know who acknowledges that his lifeboat may not breach that ocean, and that is why he beat a man into infirmity. God bless Henry.,