Library silence
The library sometimes pretends it’s water and ocean, with tempestuous phrases pouring from pages forming rivers, wrestling with wobble of waves in the turbulent bay, where the lighthouse is darker […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Falling
My love for you is not the pinkish softness of a kitten’s paw, it’s not the brightness of a summer solstice, not the nausea of honeysuckled sweetness in June but […]
Connor Cockroach
“I am a cage, in search of a bird.” Franz Kafka from The Blue Octavo Notebooks “What’s wrong, dear Pa, today?” said Connor Cockroach, in dismay and gently licked his […]
May Grey turn into pink
Gray if you may the morning today when it’s Monday is bleak, remember to keep your nose on the grindstone; push forward, deliver and maybe by Friday it’s turned into […]
When the locusts eat your liver it may be too late
It’s not the species dying, lost or extinction in itself, but the locusts, and the pestilence that will follow in its wake that might change your mind (when it’s way […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 