Beauty
Beauty is a prison dressed in pink perfume, , it is stiletto heels on smiling glass-eyed mannequins , it is the Chinese water-torture, disharmony and sugar. Beauty is the soft […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Not seashells
“It’s not like selling seashells by the seashore, Mom?” Kayla pulled down her shirt; …hiding the needle marks? “But, you were to work for summer only as beach waitress… and […]
Incense and innocence
Christmas smelled like tangerine, fire placed and slowly peeled, while waiting in a whiff of resin roast and firewood; and from the woods a hint of moss and mulch. The […]
6:30 on your way to work
No, it wasn’t the rain or the sour scent of unwashed wool, it wasn’t the stinging sound of strangers making up on mobile phones. No, it wasn’t tiredness of Netflix […]
Never an ant
Eighteen years ago I moved to Stockholm. Though, I was a tree uprooted from the forest of my youth, at first it felt familiar from vacations and business trips, I […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 