Arquivo do Autor

XVII – Bound By My Own Arms

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 16/06/2021

I really don’t know what else to do. I need to get out. I need to see the world. The talks don’t change, they stay the same tone and I remain without perspectives of getting out. Why don’t they give up already, why don’t they just let me go free? Maybe it’s because I’ve already gotten out before. I remember getting out. I remember the sensation of walking through that iron doorway, seeing the trees outside, the car...

XVI – Confident in Victory

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 17/05/2021

As I was saying, I was trying to learn to play the game. The best way of resistance is a peaceful one, as Gandhi taught. Here, inside of Pinel, I just need to get into the game during my meetings with Dr. Lucas. The nurses have already entered my game. With a guitar in hand I have won over my colleagues. I feel like a leader in here. Everyone comes to my room and tells me of their qualms. Maybe I could help them more than the ...

XV – Disobjective Events

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 02/03/2021

Regarding crazies and doctors, or maybe just crazy-doctors, I have one thing to say: it is all a question of representation. Today, while this occurred to me, and considering that I still remain imprisoned here, I realized that for me to get out, I have to play the game. We have to immerse into it in order to change it, to turn it inside out and crudely expose our unique rationale, our vision of a differentiated world. The men...

XIV – Living and Learning to Play

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 18/01/2021

Daniel, my captivating friend who was here with me just now, doesn’t speak. Wizened, listens, throws his head back and laughs regularly. His diagnosis by the men in white is autism, I think. I consider him to be brilliant. He doesn’t say so, but he keenly listens to everything in his vicinity and picks up on the energy of whoever is around him, often laughing an ironic but wise laugh. They say we were given two ears and on...

XIII – Connected Dissociations

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 15/12/2020

I just woke up again here in Pinel, this “treatment center” that has become my home, but without my ever feeling at home, without the comfort of one… Not like my bed, with its broken deck that messes up my back daily, provides any rest. It’s not the place, it’s the people. It’s these autistic, narcotic, maniacal and even the depressive and suicidal people that make me feel at home. They give me the welcoming that e...

XII – A Joyous Island of Pinel

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 14/10/2020

To live under the logical tyranny of the sane world may be more comfortable for some, but for the non-adapted, those who have gained wings, it is excruciating. This is because the sane are incapable of noticing the underlying authoritarianism in their actions, accepting only the level of reality visible to their clouded eyes. It’s like that scene from the notorious movie The Matrix, where Morpheus, his name being a non-coinc...

XI – House Arrest

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 20/07/2020

I found the cradle that I needed in Sandra’s lap. I don’t know why, but every night, whether it was with her or Valéria, I felt the need to lay my head on a lap, and not just any, but one of those laps. I would have preferred if it was my girlfriend’s. It’s been a while since she last visited me, where could she be? Ok, so it wasn’t the all sentimental love sublime that rises above everything and everyone. Wishful t...

X – Finally a Lap

Publicado por Bill Braga
Data da publicação: 16/06/2020

I’m having yet another talk with the man in white, the impassable Dr. Lucas. He makes a point of maintaining his doctorly pose, the ferocity in his rude and reprehensive voice accompanied by the lord of truth look upon his face. But even he has bowed to my scrutiny. Today I left his office much more light on my feet, he said that soon I will be leaving, he said that I don’t belong to this hospital, but do you think that an...