Ingmar Bergman is dead. And it’s like the lights have gone out.
It’s not that I didn’t expect this to happen: the guy was eighty-nine years old, after all. It’s just that I feel like the real grown-ups are leaving us.
It's an odd day in Sweden alright. He held Swedish drama and film-making world in an I(sometimes unhealthy) iron grip. They'll all act like orphans for a while.
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