By Brian Robinson.
“I see a big problem here Will. I mean, your language, it’s all over the shop. But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? What’s that all about? It’s too bloody cryptic Will. It’s got a certain ring to it, I’ll give you that, but so has a cracked pot.”
“You misunderstand me my friend. I do not refer to the light from the candle: I refer to the light of the lady; to the light of love. It cannot be contained in a room; in a household; or even in a life. One day it will find wings and fly from the building.”
“What? You mean like Elvis? I thought this blog was about a conflict between two households, the Capulets and the Montagues? What’s love got to do with it? You need a bit more violence mixed in. That’s what people want.”
“Then you further misunderstand me. The conflict between these two houses is no more than the wick upon which their hatred burns. I question the nature of their hatred, the nature of the light. It doesn’t illuminate. It dims the night. It hides their shame.”
“Now I’m even more confused. Listen, if you want this stuff to be read you really must put more work into it. Look, I’m on your side. I want this to happen. If you get this right you could go viral. I’m only playing devil’s advocate.”
“Yes, and I’m only playing God’s advocate.”