I don’t like patients in my ear on headphones—I don’t use visual technology; it’s a Lacanian thing—I like listening to them in a room as two bodies. I like the ritual: the greeting, the opening and closing of doors. I miss them, even though I will speak with them. That I would have to attend to them now via the very same device that was contaminating my life with “words, words, words” (as Hamlet says to Polonius prior to murdering him) was making me feel psychotic.
Source : Psychoanalysis in Time of Plague
