Acorn
Home is like your fist, an acorn waiting to spring root. Home is not your prison of convention, nor a migrant’s shelter, it’s neither pillow nor the pavement. Home is […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Books and dragonflies
The river is both change and sameness It’s an endless new beginning from its birth in raindrops, rivulets and streams through the rush of waterfalls, the sluggish movement under bridges […]
Weatherlocked feast
One of the cabins we always try to find our way back to is the Nallo hut. It is situated in a deep valley with wonderful views when weather is […]
Cataract
He built his home with ink on paper, his world was walled with words. And with myopic eyes he gardened in the soil of sagging shelves, he sowed with books […]
Making love on battlefields
Less from the ghosts than from a kiss you lost on me, the cemetery comes to life. It’s warm with cluster bombs. It thaws the blue of lips and melts […]
