There is a madman that haunts the imagination of the ordinary man; a figure that runs through the imagination breaking bones or pulling jaws apart until there is a sickening sound. They forget about the madman until they see or hear something horrible happening; some act of craziness played out in the horrid light of the modern city that denies consciousness rather than re- awakens it. It is the light that reveals rows of absent-minded faces scanning the daily paper and seeing themselves enacted from top to bottom next to the madman enacting his deed.

"Perhaps this madman was like me, reading the newspaper and then, this thing, this thing within took over. Now his life is destroyed. Does the world sit on the shoulder of men waiting for one of them to relent and show the true nature of things?"

They want some evidence of the madman! What? Is this the role the artist plays? The artist has only one thing to teach; that is, all is transformation. Learn the laws of transformation. Transform, even, the madman into some divine object that leads to wonderful things. But, if you do not learn the transformation- beware! Hell welcomes you; demons coronet you!