It goes against the decree of conventional wisdom to imagine Shakespeare as an unsuccessful writer.
Had he been a writer in this day, where digital demons loom over the elation of creative expression, an uncelebrated Shakespeare seems less bizarre a thought and more rational a possibility. When we set to employ technology to solve contemporary predicaments, we intended to automate the mundane.
However, poetry and painting fall far from mundanity. Art, literature and filmmaking are the embodiments of emotions and experiences.
And the assertion that a machine parasitising our creative properties may defenestrate people of art — dissolves a bone in my body.

