Scent of ice
Do you know the scent of ice? Ice can borrow any color — why insist on grey? Skinning the pond, can this ice carry more than a sparrow’s weight? Have […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Sliced banana
The still life of my mornings is one half banana peeled and sliced into my cereal, one sandwich tea and orange juice. I read half the morning paper before unstilled […]
Like a river
The pages of a new book, still unread, is like a river, tentative at first. The aged librarian never reads the blurb but lingers on the foreword he’s basking with […]
The artefact
The rays of light from the torch cut through stale air of the secret chamber. Specks of dust scintillated in its sheen. Professor Detlev Hörder gasped. “Diz iz de crown […]
Not a fairy tale
He rode the bike of twilight when they met at dusk She was blinded, blissed groomed in grooves of him and rock’n’roll. She was a bombshell, feisty but made pill […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 