What does madness look like exactly? Does it have a shape, a body, extensions, labels? Is it a state of mind or a state of being? Or, is it merely ones perception of what they assess to be madness? What happens when much of the world appears to be in a state of madness, a sort of chaos that resembles the last known crazy person we wish we’d never met? Do we peel it down to its core, carve it out, explore it, analyze it, then push it to the side hoping it goes away? Does that make us feel more comfortable with its existence? Do we disregard it, live with it, or run from it? Can we sit in a room with it, simply observing the dynamics of its inner-workings? Can we coexist with it? Is that what drives the fear – the fact that most feel they cannot…