Spring in a Madman's Garden, Henri-Frédéric Blanc

"It's true, nothing is more conducive to madness than a stay in an asylum, especially if you have to feign insanity. Surrounded by people who have lost their minds, you quickly lose your own, you are quickly tempted by this devastating freedom of madness, the clear morning of dementia where everything finally unravels: the mind has killed its inner inspector, its mental drill sergeant, that ambassador of others who manages our head and checks at every moment if we are presentable to the world. And then the imagination is inexhaustible. Worse: it grows as you extract it from yourself, it proliferates as soon as you use it. It's an infinite magic carpet that unrolls and unrolls in all directions until you get lost in the labyrinth of its arabesques.