We are all engaged in the same world but through different and incompatible interpretations. To encounter another is to enter into their interpretation of this shared world - everyone else seems to be so sure of themselves, they've seen it all and know just where every piece fits in. When you return to your own after one of these sallies you find that nothing is quite the same. There has been a violation, as if thieves had ransacked the place while you were out.
What a delicate and artificial construction your solitude is!
A 'crazy' woman stops you on the street, ancient mariner style, to urge some teachings from her 'enlightened master' whose words, she says, are being spoken through her. She rambles away somewhat incoherently, or else it's that her speech is obscured by a heavy accent, so you can only pick up isolated fragments, but all the same, in a confused but uncanny way she reads your every thought, precisely exposing all the fetid matters that have been buzzing in your mood the entire morning. Are you that transparent? Apparently so, so that someone whose mind is freed from the straight-jackets of stupidity and irrelevance which hobble the brains of those who are, or work to seem to be, adjusted to the culture can see right through the citizen to the helpless child beneath.