northern lites

I stare at Cambridge Companion-pages on Ibsen all day long whilst jealously being aware of recently uploaded colourful pictures of friends partying on the beaches of Mexico. they might not know anything about Ibsen and his campaign against the old ideals of the bourgeoisie, but they nevertheless seem extremely happy.

right now I’d love to trade all my Ibsenian knowledge for a proper night out in London/Paris/Berlin/New York. even drunkenly leaning towards something solid in Gothenburg’s Stars N’ Bars at 2 AM counting the change for a tequila shot of certain next morning-misery and making nonsensical conversation with some hairy smellers sporting Metallica t-shirts who went to the same school as me would do.

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