Can
you ever begin to imagine the horror that literary characters experience? Doomed
to repeat the same old “same-old” with every single reading… thousands, even millions of times, with evermore ahead?
Listen
with your heart instead of your brain and you will hear Hamlet shrieking “Must
I always and forever be this same wretched creature who lives only in books to
be poisoned again and again and again?”
Perhaps
it is time for mercy?
(just exploring the fringes that some have called a twilight zone, and that others have called mad)
(just exploring the fringes that some have called a twilight zone, and that others have called mad)
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