How lucky is the schizophrenic who can get an instrument to make society understand him. Because really, that's what differentiates madness from genius: What the voices tell you to do. With Michaelangelo, they told him to paint the Sistine Chapel, with David Berkowitz, they told him to kill lovers in parked cars. With Harrell, the trumpet allows him to make sense, which makes me believe that inside every mind that suffers from mental illness, like a hurricane's eye, there is a place of perfect order. At least for Harrell, others can hear it.