it is possible to be insane and unhinged without losing your normalcy.

walking around the lobby as he often does. denmark is a prison.

he wants to go back to wittenberg, to take his mind off this most horrible ordeal.

. . . is she spying on him?

holding a dagger in his hands.

he doesn’t like that. did his uncle send for her?

really? him? does she know he’s / mad? /

no privacy in elsinore. i’m sure my treacherous uncle is spying on me somewhere.

. . . he’s unsure what to think.

is there an occasion to which he needs to look tidy?

tell him, should a gentleman still be tidy once he has rotted in his grave—? hamlet cares little about tidiness. adjusting his collar.

why, yes. but what does it matter if all man turn to dust and ashes in the end? what does tidiness matter now when hamlet has more pressing things to worry about?

ah, tis for the neck, not for the head.

holding out his hand. give it back and he can show him.

placing the tie around his own neck and doing it up. see?

scribbling frantically onto paper.

he's walking through my dreams again.

gripping the dagger in his hands again. won’t the heavenly powers give him the strength to enact his rightful vengeance?

another sleepless night. when he closes his eyes, all he sees is his father.