“The madhouse it's a condominium of saints. Saints are the poor foolish lunatics between the Chinese sheets, shrouds of manufacture. Saint is the nun that with the lamp on her bedside-table nearby brightens like an ex-voto. And the doctor is the Holy of Holies, he's the father of all saints, he's Jesus Christ.”This is how Nicola narrates his 35 years of “madhouse electroshock” and in his confused mind, reality and imagination clash, by producing inevitable flashes of inspiration. Nicola was born in the Sixties, “the fantastic Sixties” and the world he sees inside the hospital is not so different from the one running outside, a more and more voracious world where the only thing that seems to never run out is the fear.