For most of his life, Henry Darger lived in a one-room apartment building, attended Catholic Mass as many as four or five times a day, and worked as a janitor and dishwasher at a hospital. He paid meticulous attention to the weather, even recording it every day for ten years in a journal. He barely interacted with anyone and seems to have had only one friend, who one biographer believes was also his lover. And he also wrote, and drew, and painted, and cut-and-pasted. Thousands of pages, hundreds of illustrations, multiple volumes, and none of it seen by anyone except himself until after his death.