The Gaze That Sees Is The Gaze

People Know What They Do; Frequently They Know Why They Do What They Do; But What They Don't Know Is What What They Do Does.

Confined On The Ship, From Which There Is No Escape, The Madman Is Delivered To The River With Its Thousand Arms, The Sea With Its Thousand Roads, To That Great Uncertainty External To Everything. He Is A Prisoner In The Midst Of What Is The Freest, The Openest Of Routes: Bound Fast At The Infinite Crossroads. He Is The Passenger Par Excellence: That Is, The Prisoner Of The Passage. And The Land He Will Come To Is Unknown—as Is, Once He Disembarks, The Land From Which He Comes. He Has His Truth And His Homeland Only In That Fruitless Expanse Between Two Countries That Cannot Belong To Him.

Visibility Is A Trap.

Psychoanalysis Can Unravel Some Of The Forms Of Madness; It Remains A Stranger To The Sovereign Enterprise Of Unreason. It Can Neither Limit Nor Transcribe, Nor Most Certainly Explain, What Is Essential In This Enterprise.

But The Guilty Person Is Only One Of The Targets Of Punishment. For Punishment Is Directed Above All At Others, At All The Potentially Guilty.