“I speak to the walls,” says Lacan, and this means: “Neither to you nor to the great Other. I speak to myself. It is precisely what interests you. It is your responsibility to interpret me.” These walls are the walls of the chapel of the psychiatric hospital of Saint-Anne. Lacan revisits his youth there when he was a psychiatry intern. He entertains himself, improvises, speaks freely. The intention is combative: the best of his students, captivated by the idea that psychoanalysis erases any pre-existing knowledge, raised the banner of non-knowledge that they borrowed from Bataille. No, says Lacan, psychoanalysis stems from a knowledge that is supposed, the knowledge of the unconscious. We gain access to this through the path of truth (the analysand tries to plainly say whatever comes to mind) when it arrives at enjoyment (the analyst interprets the analysand's words in terms of libido). A lesson in wisdom in a time, our own, that sees a bureaucracy hand in hand with science dreaming of changing the most intimate side of humanity - through propaganda, direct brain manipulation, biotechnology, or even social engineering. Yesterday was certainly not good, but tomorrow could be worse.