Stepping out of Hamlet's corpse-riddled conclusion into sunny downtown Winnipeg was jarring. Behind us, Elsinore had cleared the deck; in front of us, an always overdue Prairie spring was green with energy. Nature worked against the play's mood... with higher production values...
I'm not disagreeing with Shakespeare. "We're all dying and you should get used to that," is a solid argument, pentameter or no. Maybe that's all the more reason to soak up the sunshine while it lasts. I imagine the original script got there: an extended Act 5 Scene 2 where Hamlet and Horatio hit the trails, hike to this lake Hamlet Sr. used to take the fam in better days. They fish, one reels in a trout.
"You know what we should do, H? Fry this up and dip it in butter."
"Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be."
"Exactly."
A few day's ago a friend said my life look pretty perfect on Instagram. It isn't. Yours isn't. Did your uncle murder your father and marry your mother? I don't have the words to tell you how wretched that sounds, though I can recommend someone.
Get out there and soak up as much sunshine as you can. You owe it to yourself to be happy.
The rest is...
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