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 […]
Tag Archives: prose
Commuting close to water
I do neither crave adventures, nor a struggle to brighten Monday mornings. When riding bicycle to work there are little changes every day. Every morning’s different. Today for instance air […]
Seeking shelter
We’ve learnt is to fear the feathers of the sky. You might think the sky is perfect, a perfect blue, but if it’s marred by cirrus clouds, the wind will […]
On disaster of words
There are words that cannot be reversed; there are sentences that never should be said. Silence is filled with ambiguity and there is always a little bit of hope. Yet […]
Northbound train
We are many called for, seeking north. I see an elderly couple waiting; they have mountains in their eyes. We are leaving Stockholm at the break of spring to seek […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 