Armageddon Yellow
Every day another fire — fire-tongues licking thirsty moss trees turn into black hands, stretching from below the surface of an ashen sea. We went picking raspberries the other day […]
Monthly Archives: July 2018
Johnny’s gone
As soon as the last guest left Clara locked the door and meticulously cleaned the bar. She washed the glasses and swept the floor. Thirty minutes later she left her […]
The garden is silent
When red of my roses burnt into brown and your pansies have perished in snow the garden is silent, the orchard is bare. When ivy has strangled the plum tree […]
Room at the attic
Summers of my childhood were sometimes spent in the big countryside manor of my grandparents. Uncles and aunts, cousins and rooms more than we could count. Days followed days in […]
What’s the color of peace?
It must be a color less like the soil not ochre, sienna or brown reminding of trenches or graves; it cannot be red as the rage of revenge, the color […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 