No more foghorns
I remember foghorns, scent of salt and how the wind was soaked with rain. In my hometown we knew from childhood that umbrellas are useless in the wind. I remember […]
Category Archives: haibun
My fingers cannot curl
In school we learned to write in cursive, and I still recall how we used to copy texts of dinosaurs. The Brontosaurus and Triceratops were teachers showing me how to […]
Consoling the moon
I know you should be blue — my winter moon. You should lend your sheen to snow; you should reflect yourself in ice and not in water. Winter should be […]
Small adventures
Let every day be another small adventure, let there be the slightest obstacle to overcome. It’s like going uphill on the bicycle and knowing that after going uphill follows thrills […]
Let this be my manifesto
My future is to walk the aisles of libraries. To follow and to lead, to search in ancient scrolls and books not printed yet. My future is to write my […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 