No way back
I stumble on the cobbled lane this cul-de-sac, this rutted one-way-street. Nowhere I see a crossroad where a path diverges, nowhere a bridge leads back. How can a lie be […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Island of your words unsaid
On oily doldrum waters, in the speechless sea a lonely island lies. It’s soil is filled with crosses and on its craggy shores rotting carcasses of moored intentions are scattered, […]
Body Count
The sweet reek of decay mingled with a muted scent of honeysuckle. In the unmoving summer afternoon a cloud of blowflies descended on the wet soil. Russell sighed in frustration. […]
The queen eats breakfast by herself
The queen on number twenty one Dragon Hill is neither sorceress, nor saint, but open arteries of sanguine geraniums adorn her third floor balcony and her front door is painted […]
Listen to the leaves
The voice is not from color of the leaves but from the lush words they utter, in the glossy sentences they form from rain and summer, the green syllables they […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 