Ophelia
Kronberg or “Elsinore”
Tel: Doesn’t yet exist Fax: Neither does this one
Laertes A deepest concern France inc 4323 French-sounding-name Street France, Paris Late Medieval Period Dear Laertes, I am very happy to have seen you for the coronation of King Claudius but I miss you deeply, my brother. Your visit was much too ephemeral. It is of my greatest hope that matters in France are well as they are not so here. I’m sorry, my brother, I meant to have nothing to do with him. I wished now to have followed your advice intently. I should have been true to my promise. I spoke to Hamlet this evening. You and our dearest father were correct, his royal chicanery convinced me of love. Alas, I am unsure of this. Not only has he insulted me with this great act, but he called our own father a fool. I prayed to the Gods, I pleaded to the heavens to help the man for his delusions and depression got the best of him. To no avail, my brother. I am no bawd, yet he talks to me as if I were! It is not of love I am despairing, but of uncertainty. Is it this life I should be living? Is it of this world I should inhabit? To be or not to be; that is my dilemma. Why does this confusion ensue me? Why do these thoughts consume my mind? I know not, my brother. It is not rare that I wish of none of this. Love lost is indeed worse than love never had. Could I wish to continue my delusions of reciprocated love? Perhaps that is the thinking of a bawd who will never know the better side of love. Life is but a mountain whose peak one may not reach. It is the plight of a fool to maintain this endless trek for all end the same: the tumble toward the outreached arms of the boney carcasses that lie below. It is there I am headed, soon preceding me is my once loved. How does the heart of thinking deal with such knowledge? It is this am I presently afraid. I wonder of the path I will take in this plunge. I sometimes wish that gravity’s will would be more direct. Perhaps it is I who should control my fate. Sincerely yours, Ophelia