At the moment I'm writing my essay in psychology,and trying to escape the incoming academic meltdown, I'm taking small breaks to creep around on wikipedia. There, I stumbled across the article on Henrik Ibsen. I've read it a few times before, and suddenly I realized why:
"On 23 May 1906, Ibsen died in his home at Arbins gade 1 in Christiania (now Oslo) after a series of strokes in March 1900. When, on 22 May, his nurse assured a visitor that he was a little better, Ibsen spluttered his last words "On the contrary" ("Tvertimod!"). He died the following day at 2:30 P.M."You live your life writing plays that can't be said to just be about sugar, spice and everything nice, pointing at how things never were as good as they seemed. And then he goes down like that. Nice.
Åh, til dere som ikke helt skjønner hvordan dere endte opp her; jeg har fått overført alle mine bloglovin-følgere fra min forrige blogg, og over til denne. Håper det er greit for dere fine folk.