GHOSTS

On my sister's 39th birthday today we decided to greet some ghosts. None was better suited than that of Hamlet. So we went to Kronborg Castle. While going about the rooms we deconstructed cliches about death. In most people's framework of thinking, when death is not considered a desirable subject for discussion in most contexts, having thus been turned into a taboo, then it is ludicrously referred to in terms that border stupidity. For what do people mean when they say that they 'stare death into its eyes' or 'confront its call'? "Oh, my," my sister and I said to ourselves in a unison: "people are soooo courageous. We're impressed." I mean, honestly. Where death is concerned, I want to hear something that we don't already know. All of us. And without exception. Shakespeare made some good attempts. Thank God. He made Hamlet's introspection - based on suspicion following trust and not the other way around - an act of acting, which however led to a kind of knowledge that didn't save him, even if it could. Ah, Shakespeare. He knew a thing or two about silent surges. Turning to my sister, I asked her: "so, what's in the Winter's Tale today? She said: "why, the same question, of course, but with a slight variation: "to be or not to be. . . fat." Well said. If not Hamlet himself, then his fat ghost could relate.