The day the music died
I take pebbles from the shore and throw them one by one into dying water. From across the bay I hear music playing from an open window. Just like last […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Swedish Carnival
No parade for us, no flesh of thighs exposed, (it’s way too cold) no dancing in the street (we’re not so bold) no saints or idols on display (we rather […]
When building a cabin
It is never the spike but the hammers that cause the damage from strikes; while breaking the laws and resilience of timber to build you a cabin burning warm in […]
Leave a light on
When you leave me, please — spike my gloom with silver sickle of a waxing moon and in the wake behind you please — trickle pebble stars to guide me […]
Goodbye Sarajevo
Still early, Amina left the guest house. She checked the address on her smartphone and quickly found the loathsome address, where she once had lived. The cobblestones where cold to […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 