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Focusing on the traitor scene: Act II Scene II, How does Shakespeare portray Henry?

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Dysfunction and Paranoia: The Library Man 'A head spun around to look at me. Another head twisted in my direction; then another, and another. Before I knew it, everyone's eyes were scrutinising my very flesh.' I am reaching my mid-forties. I live alone in a small village on the outskirts of Kent. My hobbies are reading and writing poems. I am currently unemployed and single. As I carefully stepped out of the right side of my bed, I reached for the curtains and tore them open. It was like any other day: the clouds kept the sun from shining; the birds were crying for food; and the ground was covered with man-made dirt. I see the world in some ways different to others. People may view my frame of mind as slightly abstract and diverse, to me it is normal. I retaped the library due ticket onto the book because it was peeling on the edges, and set off to the library with my bag full of about five books. I flung open the oak door; its unoiled hinges scraping against each other, not ominously, but with a sound disconcertingly familiar. ...read more.


In my panic, I must have knocked the heavy golden novel off my lap, it fell face down, and I hadn't read a word. The delicate pages had scattered all over the ivory floor and down the ladder, rubbing against the rough wooden steps, causing them to creak. Almost as if the book had a life of its own, choosing its own path. Another book had fallen from its place, crashing to the floor as the previous one had done. Was there another person in my presence... another soul with thoughts and actions of its own? Blood rushed through my veins, the pumping of my heart increasing with every movement. I heard the familiar creaking of the door. Someone had to be there. Or was it just the wind? The pages that had once been scattered along the ladder, lifted; flying through the air. The sharp edges of the paper headed in my direction, as if it wanted to take my life into its own pages. I flung myself to the floor in bewilderment and fright and forced my hand onto my ears, pushing harder and harder. ...read more.


His bed would be white with a red stripe across the width of it, carefully draped over his Ikea mattress. Maybe he had a family and his favorite colour was blue. His favorite food was pea and ham soup and he loved books just like me. I felt like I knew him already. Making my way down the ladder felt a whole lot easier now things in my mind made sense - just like books. Well not completely, but near enough to ease the tension. As my feet touched the floor, I smoothed my hair and brushed down my wooly jumper. First appearances always counted, and I had to make sure I made this one good. I made my way towards the distinguished oak door and opened it. "Hello?" No reply. I closed the door and fumbled my way around the library. "Hello?" Still no reply "Hello?" I shouted it this time; frustrated that the man was leaving no reply. I ran around the library. He probably just wanted to play a game of hide and seek. Silence...some may call this silence golden, but not me. He should've known I didn't like playing games. ...read more.

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