"You really shouldn't go through this-a-way," he said. "But you be okay long as you stick right close to me. Don't pay no attention to what none of 'em says. Don't talk to none of 'em. Don't even look up. Just hold on to me and keep your eyes down on the floor. I get you through. Open the door." We stepped through. "Lock it behind you." I did.

I knew then what the word 'madhouse' meant. The sound of hell: Screams. Crying. Cursing. Animal grunts. A man darted out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. I flattened myself against the big orderly.

- from You Lock It Behind You by Lee Smith

Photograph by R. Samuel Klatchko.