The lanterns hung high up cast their light, and the door is largely thrown open. Under a warm, dim light, sakura petals from the fully blooming garden float faintly in the night sky. Quietly, I think on it. Late on such a spring night.
We all wear a mask throughout our life that we believe defines who we are. We are defined by our appearances, wealth, or knowledge. Hamlet realizes that we are all going to take off our masks at death. Underneath our mask we are all inherently the same.