1990 was an important year in world events. In February, Nelson Mandela was set free after 27 years in prison. In October, East and West Germany became one country again. Then at the end of 1990, the World Wide Web was born. For this final event we have one man to thank. Tim Berners-Lee, the father of the Web.

    Berners-Lee was born on June 8, 1955 in London, England. His parents, both computer designers, encouraged him to think and work creatively as he grew up. He was an excellent student and naturally took an interest in computers and science.

    After graduating from Oxford University, Tim went to work at a science research centre in Switzerland. There he developed some of the different systems（系统）that would later become the Web. The first was HTML, the computer language used to make web pages. The second was an address system that let computers anywhere find each other and send and receive information. In 1990 he put them together to make the first Internet browser（浏览器）.

    Tim knew that the more people used the Web, the more useful it would be. He wasn't interested in money but knowledge, so he gave out his invention for free to anyone who was interested. Many were interested an the growth of the Internet began.

    Today Tim works as a professor at the MIT in America, studying new ways to use the Web. He has received many awards from governments and organizations for his efforts. He is still not very interested in money. That is why he is so liked by his students and workmates. It may also be one of the reasons that few people outside the world of technology know his name.

    I have an interest in photography and follow many photography Instagram accounts. Just like me, a friend of mine has a similar interest. The only difference is that he is a traveller and has taken hundreds of beautiful photos. He is really talented.

    Having returned from one trip, he shared some of his latest photos. Blown away by the images, I asked him why he hadn't started his own Instagram account of shots.

    “It's hard to start when there are already so many other websites devoted to travel photography with thousands of followers”, he explained. “What if I don't get any followers or what if people don't like my shots?”

    “Yet how will you ever know if you don't try?” I asked.

    He just shrugged and quickly changed the subject. I knew this feeling well. The feeling of self-doubt.

    That was when I was ten years old. I participated in a guitar competition. My grandfather helped me write a short speech to address the crowd and judges. But as the competition began, doubt consumed me and questions flooded my head. I thought to myself, “If I do say the speech, will the other girls laugh at me? Will the judges think I'm being silly for doing my own talk?”

    Then with a shake in my voice I said, “My name is Heidi Ceci. I live in St. Catharines and I play the guitar.” Nothing more... and nothing less.

    But the next girl walked up to the microphone and actually said a speech. I just stared at her in complete disbelief. No one seemed to be judging her for doing something different. In fact, they applauded louder for her than any other girl.

    From then on, I never let fear and doubt rule my decisions. Whatever happens, I always take chances and have a try.

    "Have a nice day!" may be a pleasant gesture or a meaningless expression. When my friend Maxie says "Have a nice day" with a smile, I know she sincerely cares about what happens to me. I feel loved and secure since another person cares about me and wishes me well.

    "Have a nice day. Next!" This version of expression is spoken by a salesgirl at the supermarket who is rushing me and my groceries out the door. The words come out in the same tone(腔调)with a fixed procedure. They are spoken at me, not to me. Obviously, the concern for my day and everyone else's is the management's attempt to increase the business.

    The expression is one of those behaviors that help people get along with each other. Sometimes it indicates the end of a meeting. As soon as you hear it, you know the meeting is at an end. Sometimes the expression serves us when we don't know what to say." Oh, you just had a tooth out? I'm terribly sorry, but have a nice day."

    The expression can be pleasant. If a stranger says "Have a nice day" to you, you may find it heart-warming because someone you don't know has tried to be nice to you.

    Although the use of the expression is an insincere, meaningless social custom at times, there is nothing wrong with the sentence except that it is a little uninteresting. The salesgirl, the waitress, the teacher, and all the countless others who speak it without thinking may not really care about my day. But in a strange and comfortable way, it's nice to know they care enough to pretend they care when they really don't care all that much. While the expression may not often be sincere, it is always spoken. The point is that people say it all the time when they like.

Growing up, I understood one thing about my dad: He knew everything. In my teen years, he taught me things I'd need to know to survive in the real world. How to drive a stick shift. How to check your car tyre's pressure. The correct knife to use to cut a cantaloupe.

When I moved out on my own, I called him at least once a week, usually when something broke in my apartment and I needed to know how to fix it: the toilet, the air-conditioning, the wall, once, when I threw a shoe at a terrifying spider.

But then, eventually, I needed him less. I got married, and my husband had most of the knowledge I lacked about gutter cleaning and water heaters and nondestructive insect removal. For everything else, we had Google. I don't know when it happened, but our conversations when I called turn into six words. Me: "Hi, Dad." Him: "Hi, sweets. Here's Mom."

I loved my dad, of course, but I wondered at times if maybe he had already shared everything I needed to know. Maybe I'd heard all his stories. Maybe, after knowing a man for 40 years, there's nothing left to say. Then, two summers ago, my husband, our four kids and I moved in with my parents for three weeks while our house was being painted. They owned a lake house, and my dad asked me to help him rebuild the bulkhead （舱壁）. It was hard, manual job. We got wet and sandy. But as we put the new bulkhead together piece by piece, my dad knew exactly what went where, I looked at him. "How do you know how to build a bulkhead?" "I spent a summer in college building them on the Jersey Shore.

"You did?" I thought I knew everything about my dad, but I never knew this. I realized that maybe it's not that there's nothing left to say. Maybe it's just that I've spent my life asking him the wrong questions. That day, my dad talked about what he had learned and what he could do excitedly. We chatted and chatted for a long time.

A few weeks later, after my family and I moved back into our painted house, I called my parents. "Hi, sweets," he said. "Here's Mom." "Wait, Dad," I said. "How are you?" We ended up talking about everything he was working on. To anyone else, it would sound like a normal conversation between a dad and his daughter. But to me, it was novel. A new beginning. I spent the first part of my life needing to talk to my dad. Now I talk to him because I want to.

Grainne lived alone. My morning routine 1 with her daily walks to and from her gates, and we began having 2 there.

She was an easy conversationalists, with a good habit of focusing 3 on me as we talked. She told me she was 87, and she was surprised I was only 26. I found myself 4 her things I hadn't necessarily told anyone. "I have never felt at home anywhere, I'm traveling to find out where I 5 ." I told her.

We both looked forward to my daily 6 . However, as our friendship grew, my beloved grandfather was seriously ill. I 7 to go back to India soon.

The day before I left Dublin, I went to say goodbye to Grainne. We both knew we were likely talking to each other in person for the 8 time.

Shortly after my return to India, my grandfather 9 . I emailed Grainne telling her "I lost the only person who made me feel less 10 ." Grainne wrote back, an email full of 11 . She said: "I hope you understand you don't fit into places. You fit into 12 . You will always fit where you have people to fit with."

Although I was never able to 13 Grainne again, my friendship with her continued through emails. It was one of the most 14 friendship I've ever known. I was 26 and alone in a foreign country, and she was 87 and alone in her own home. Together we made the world 15 again.

    Norwegian playwright and author Jon Fosse has just been awarded the 2023 Nobel Prize in Literature for his "innovative plays and prose which give voice to the unsayable". 

    The Swedish Academy credits Fosse as "one of the most widely performed playwrights in the world", although the 64-year-old originally made his name as a novelist, beginning with Red, Black in 1983. He has since written many works of prose and poetry. "His literary works, spanning a variety of genres (体裁) , comprises about 40 plays and a wealth of novels, poetry collections, essays, children's books and translations, " said Anders Olsson, chairman of the Nobel Committee for Literature. 

    Jon Fosse draws inspiration from his rural living environment and personal struggles, which have deeply influenced his distinctive writing style. Growing up in a small coastal village, Fosse was immersed in the beauty of nature and the vastness of the sea, which filled him with a sense of solitude and introspection (内省) that is reflected in his works. Fosse's writing discussed themes of loneliness, longing, and the search for meaning in life. Additionally, his battles with depression have enabled him to explore the depths of human emotions and existential despair. 

    "He touches you so deeply when you read his works," said Anders Olsson. "What is special about him is the closeness in his writing. It touches your deepest feelings —anxieties, insecurities, questions of life and death —which are things that every human being actually faces from the very beginning. In that sense I think he reaches very far and there is a sort of a universal impact of everything that he writes —it has appeal to this basic humanity."

    Fosse is the first-ever laureate writing in Nynorsk, one of the two official languages of Norwegian, but only used by just 10% of the population. As the Guardian writes, "Many Nynorsk speakers see Fosse ‘as a kind of national hero ‘for his championing of the language." Fosse's recognition on a global stage promotes the visibility and importance of Nynorsk as a written standard. It will attract more attention to Nynorsk literature, inspire and encourage Nynorsk speakers to continue preserving and promoting their linguistic heritage.