At first there were only a few words to be found on a page. Frightening attempts to capture what I thought I saw. Then drawings came unbidden off the end of my pen. More words falling toward madness intermixed with doodles of no content. The first sketchbooks were terrifying moments done in blue on off white. Hard to see and hard to read.
Madness is hard to see in any context. I became not only mad but cynical too.