The elephant graveyard
There is a place where it’s said that elephants retreat in solitude to die. When the aging matriarch cannot lead or follow, and her daughters know the way, a day […]
Daily Archives: April 21, 2016
In a ramschackle pub by the dock
The foghorn wailed, when at the bar through scurvy teeth a sailor hissed and slammed his fist. “Tonight I’m pissed” the room went silent, barmaid jarred remembered nights before the […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 