05 · MADNESS — Excess

They called me crazy. More than once. Sometimes because I thought too much. Sometimes because I felt too much. And sometimes simply because I saw things from a different angle.

Over time I realized that madness is often the label we give to what we cannot classify.

Yet there is a kind of madness born from excessive sensitivity. From excessive questioning. From an inability to accept surfaces without depth.

Madness is a room where thought runs faster than language. Where emotions arrive all at once. Where the heart cannot close its doors.

Anyone who passes through it never comes out unchanged. Because they have seen something. And what has been seen cannot be unseen.

Many believe madness is the opposite of intelligence. I am not convinced. Sometimes they are close relatives. Sometimes madness is intelligence reaching its final limit. The point where it can no longer be contained. Where it sees too many connections. Too many meanings. Too much reality at the same time.

And when that happens, language is no longer enough. Only gesture—or silence—remains as an imperfect translator.