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Hamlet called them words
in his feigned madness.
To him they were words – mere words,
but to me they might mean so much more.
Who knows what his words
could have given me?
So different are we all;
To you they could be a way
to put yourself to sleep,
while to me they could be
Poetry…life itself.

Ā© L. Rose (1990s)

I once tried to read my way through the first copy I ever received of The Complete Works of Shakespeare, I am both proud and embarrassed to say IĀ  managed to get about three-quarters of my way through the plays (I had already read all of the sonnets for a thesis in college). During my Marathon-Shakespeare-Extravaganza, I read Hamlet for at least the third time. While reading Act II, Scene II, I remember thinking to myself, I wonder what he was reading? Hamlet alludes to what he’s reading, but there’s a gigantic part of me that wants to know exactly what he was reading – it’s just an insane curiosity – so I wrote the above.

As always, I welcome your feedback and comments. Am I alone in my binge-reading tendencies, or my mindful curiosity about what other people listen to or read? I am curious.

Thank you for reading! ~ Linda