On Antigone
From what I recall, the storyline of Sophocles’ tragedy Antigone was really rather obtuse. In fact, I barely remembered it when I looked up the SparkNotes for it a few months ago. It was boring and insignificant. Even in conversation today, years after reading it hastily for high school’s weekly English assignments (which I still dream about to this day, just last week actually), the plot still strikes me as irrelevant, Hellenic spuming (spit-fuming), meaningless aged-garb that perhaps captivated Greek audiences then for reasons I do not discern. I mentioned it in a discussion with my friend Wyatt over phone today. He wholeheartedly agreed that Antigone exists as a memory drably arrayed upon the chronology of high school and as nothing more than that.
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