Solid Ivory

Madness is not chaotic. Not disordered in any way. It is not the corruption and rust of a once spotless machine. Dirt and entropic decay are the norm, insanity is the sterile scream of newly minted coins as they encounter each other, the harsh glare of florescent lighting at three-thirty in the morning (meeting yourself in the bathroom mirror, seeing harsh judgment of your insomnia reflected in every illuminated pore). It is cotton processed and latex created.

Madness is a spotless piece of white wall, viewed closely enough to make it seem an acre. It holds no texture save smooth, and bears no identifying topography of any kind. A disinfectant and clinically empty surface, allowing no possibility of future growth whatsoever-from fungus, disease, hope or change.