Obsolete Hardware
Ada walked into the study where Mr Babbage was waiting. “You called for me Lady Lovelace”, “Yes, I read about your Analytical Engine and had an idea”, She went to […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Nothing can be perfect
We have a bearskin in our living room it meets me every day with open mouth. I don’t know where or why it met its doom my father bought it […]
Winter Spring
The days are colder than they’ve been this winter, but still the cold sun whispers spring. Every day adds another five minutes of daylight and when it’s sunny as it […]
Faithless day
The ditch looks different in twilight, when colors pale, and shadows grow That’s when the poppies turn to blood and branches mimic bones. He remembers the brown of mud on […]
Birdsong
Dearest month of March You have begun with fimbulwinter, with fangs of icicles, in Siberian winds, with a quiver from the beasts below and now I humbly wonder when you’ll […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 