A mile in my shoes
Disgust… I see it in your eyes. How you cannot meet my gaze, your lips — a thin line. your white knuckles. Is it because my accent tells you that […]
Daily Archives: May 17, 2018
Never the flowers
It was never the fragrance of flowers but the bullies and the browning of leaves, decay from the odor of urine and sweat; smothered in wetness of wool — I […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 