no farther than the summer's edge

my lastest poll: What do eggs mean to you?
I want them with salt and pepper.
I want to keep one warm until it hatches.
I cracked one and saw myself.
I feel comforted by their silence.
I want to slip into one.
I broke one and cried.
I want to juggle them but I mustn’t.
I listen when they hum.
I want to keep one under my hat.
I once made a promise to one.

a busy and beautiful Sunday. cicadas were shedding everywhere and i saw kids walking around under the midday sun, looking for their shells. the sky was so clear — from the 37th floor, i could see the mountain far away. now it’s 8pm, i haven’t had time to tidy up the house. luckily, the cleaning lady’s coming tomorrow.

my sister has an exceptional memory for time and for the feelings that are tied to it. for me everything feels misty. as if submerged beneath a heavy fog and that same mistiness comes through in my writing. my mind feels frozen. distant. with no clear path forward. maybe like a defense mechanism i’ve allowed it to stay this way.
i wish i had been more generous with my time.
i wish i had shared myself more openly.
now the rice is ready and lunchtime is just around the corner. though i’ve eaten enough since i got back and don’t feel hungry. i’ll be eating alone tomorrow and the day after. sitting here, muggy and shirtless, guilt-ridden and feeling exposed, with the breeze coming through the window, typing these words, i can't help but feel that those summer days are still alive, locked inside me.

my sister brought me a box of Fortnum & Mason biscuits and a tin of tea. She said she didn’t want tea bags, but they were out of loose-leaf lapsang souchong. She popped the lid and said it smelled like dried apples. I said it smelled like black jelly cooked over a wood fire. She nodded in agreement.
Her fringe has grown longer than i remember, and her fingers looked like little slivers of light. She tucked away two packets, flashing a sly smile, said she hadn’t tasted this variety yet. This time, she didn’t bring me any pasta. The ones she brought on previous visits are still in the cupboard - some unopened, some half-used.

my sister was on a work trip to Singapore and dropped by Vietnam. She hardly went to bed before 3am. We’d stay up late talking, peeling sunflower seeds, splitting the husks into slender flakes, passing them back and forth from one palm to the other.
she asked if i could live with her in Singapore and take Anne to school every day. Then she asked: what if it were just her - would i still come, sometimes, to stay?
just like last time, i didn’t write her a letter to read on the flight. She left for Singapore this afternoon. She’ll be there until the end of April, then fly back to the UK in early May. That’ll be Anne’s birthday. The first of May. In my mind, the old Bee Gees song played.

these days, i don’t spend much time reading. I still do. Just not as much as i used to. I barely watch movies now or listen to music. I do eat a lot of bananas. I talk less, and i’d rather listen. I’ve been consistent about watering my plants. I make the effort to meet people. I’ve been doing pull-ups to build up my arms, so i can read the books of earthsea: the complete illustrated edition without getting sore.

i’m down to just 35 minutes of phone time a day. I’ve managed this by often not carrying my phone with me lately. And like the good old days, when i head out, i mostly end up using everyone else’s phones - taking photos, checking stuff online. People keep nagging me about how my pics are clogging up their storage.

yet another season of lilies has come. But since i live on the outskirts now, i no longer see the flower vendors in the city center as often. Recently, though, i’ve made it a point to meet my cousin in town for lunch every week. She always brings a stack of homework from her students, and we settle at a café, grading the papers together. I find grading kids' work oddly satisfying. I enjoy marking wrong answers with sad faces and right ones with smiles. Sometimes, i throw in a fish or a boat at the end of the lines, just because.

as the tail end of spring gives way to early summer, the weather feels just right. I’ve been spending more time outdoors with my friends, whether by the lake or in the heart of the old quarter, sipping cold beers. The afternoon sun, though it can be a bit harsh at times, doesn’t bother me. After a long winter, i’ve grown pale and am just so happy to feel the sun’s kiss again. There’s a certain magic in feeling its warmth on my skin, as if my limbs are waking up and my heart is beating with new rhythm. The sun brings its own comfort, at least physically. But before long, the heat will be too much, and my friends will all seek refuge indoors, where the air conditioning keeps them cool.

nearly a year has passed, and i’m slowly learning to live alone - eating or skipping meals alone. I go to class or head into the city on my own. Tidy the house and tend the garden by myself. I’ve made peace with sleeping companionless - something that once felt impossible. Though, there are moments i miss my family, miss having someone scrub my back when i shower.

April’s almost over, and i’m finally able to take cold showers. Paying no mind to my dripping hair, i open the window and let the breeze rush in. The wind is gentler now, and outside, white clouds drift high. The air has grown dry, carrying the fragrance of early summer. Since winter ended, the days and the horizon seem to stretch farther and beam more vividly. Only the river and the noontide move slowly, just as still as ever.

bees and butterflies have returned and the rain has brought a whole host of insects back to life with them come more and more summer-bound birds. The spring songbirds having found their mates are now busy building nests and raising their young their cheerful chirping replaced by the voices of newcomers like the oriole and the coucal and it won’t be long before the koel begins to call. Then, the cicadas will awaken, shedding their years of silence to sing the summer’s only song.

yesterday’s downpour has left the garden lush and full of life. Spring’s tender leaves have started to deepen in color, growing tougher with time. The pinto peanuts, though, remain unchanged. Their soft, green, feather-like leaves now dotted with egg-yolk yellow blooms. Soon, these flowers will be pollinated, sending stems deeper into the dark welcoming soil. Each thing finds its own way to return. Many paths, yet all arrive at the same home.

the season has turned to Cốc Vũ, the time of sudden rains. This morning, i startedwith half a watermelon, then took my dog on our usual walk. I’ve always preferred noontime, but with summer drawing near, the cool mornings quickly give way to a sharp midday heat. That’s a bit much for my dog. So lately we’ve switched to early-morning walks - an hour and a half, though only an hour is spent walking. The other thirty minutes i sit on a swing while my dog quietly watches life go on around him.

sáng nay trong lúc ăn bỗng dưng nhớ lại ngày nhỏ trong bữa mình thường bị đánh chỉ vì cách cầm đũa hoặc ngồi sai tư thế. Cũng có lẽ vì vậy mà mình đã luôn là một đứa thủ cựu. Lúc nào cũng giữ khư khư những nếp cũ đã được xếp sẵn. Đã phải đi thật xa để mình có thể hiểu bố. Dẫu rằng toàn bộ quãng thời gian đó nhiều khi chỉ là trốn tránh, dù cũng có lúc đối mặt, nhưng tựu chung là vật lộn với bóng ma của những gì quá vãng. Tưởng chừng đã quên, để rồi sáng nay ngồi đây thấy mọi sự vẫn vẹn nguyên. Trong cũng như ngoài. Thời gian là một đường không bờ bến. Cái ta chỉ là những phương trời viễn mộng.

invited h- out for lunch. She brought me two tiny worn-down pencil stubs. A few years back, i’d asked her to collect them for me — so now, every time we meet, she hands me a few more. i've got a bunch scattered all over my old room. We talked over our meal like always, about everything and nothing. It’s funny how the smallest things carry the longest stories.

my sister is leaving for Vietnam soon, and once again, i haven’t written her a single word. i didn’t last time either. She told t-, “it feels like something’s missing if i don’t get a letter from p — i’ve always had one to read somewhere between takeoff and landing.” Tomorrow, maybe. A note for her — and a bit about why i’ve gone quiet.

nghe trong từng thanh âm buồn.

got about four hours of sleep last night. Tried to rest a bit more but couldn’t so i lay still eyes shut, listening to voices drifting in from the street.

had plans with tr- and ng for Indian food at noon, but the weather was too lovely — golden sunlight, soft breeze — to stay indoors it was one of those gentle open days so we switched to somewhere with outdoor seating instead. The place was crowded, but we hadn’t seen each other in so long that we let it all slip by unnoticed.

everything faintly turned into a quiet hum.

later, we stopped by an exhibit on Hang Buom St, then had coffee by Truc Bach Lake. The sun shimmered on the water’s surface like scattered dancing light. The air carried a hint of grass and laundry - the scent of summer arriving. It’s been ages since i last floated across this lake in a pedalo. Looking back, everything seemed distant almost out of reach. But when i looked at my friends, i realized i was still caught in the same place. In that instant, my hands clenched, and a deep overwhelming sense of love for all these struggles and uncertainties surged within me.

and then (in what could only be seen as controversial) i punched tr- right in the face.

my uncle ended up in the ER and it had been two years since i last saw him — even though i’m his favorite nephew and my aunt always says he can’t stop talking about me - and now, he had to have heart surgery. i was really grateful he pulled through the worst of it and started cracking jokes as soon as he woke up in the ICU. while waiting in the lounge, i talked with my cousin. she asked why i hadn’t seen her in two years and if i’d thought about her during that time. then she told me something that left me speechless — she said the last time we talked, when i mentioned leaving one day, i’d said i’d leave and never come back. that really hit her hard. she was at school when i said it and it upset her so much that she cried for two days straight. i couldn’t help but feel like a terrible pan.

when i was a child i constantly underwent this restless unease with darkness / probably due to its unfathomable silence / but also endless murmuring which prompts questions i never knew i had / while leaving me reluctantly unanswered in such a muted way / but these days / growing in me is a kind of longing to be wrapped in the blanket of darkness / to learn how to rest my head on the spine of its uncertainty / rubbing my weathered cheeks against the silken tenderness which is its hand / or perhaps / i’m simply reading too much into the fact that now i can sleep with the light off / soundly

if grief catches you off guard, go peel a carrot!
it’s grounding.

it was noon when grief rushed in. dark clouds of guilt swiftly took over the sky. couldn’t find shelter, we stood there, you and i, helplessly, watching the downpour of my mind. raindrops formed uneven crooked vertical lines, blurring rivers and winds.

soon, shapes would melt down as you made a desperate attempt to imprint mine. and i would surely let my structure fail you without a sound.

i need you to come back so the grief can flush away it's been clogged up for days.

i put my shirt over my mouth when i watch tv or sleep it's very comforting.

giai nhân nan tái đắc.

one intriguing thing about memory is the fact it forms in an instant, but somehow years from then you could still catch yourself in the midst of its ongoing digestion process. And occasionally, in the same manner as fermentation, time does change the flavor along with the texture of memory. Breaks down its hard-to-digest nutrients, like grief or resentment, makes them bite-sized, easier to absorb while also introducing additional beneficial compounds. That's why i sometimes discover new perspectives when reflecting on long gone memories. time keeps enriching the nutritional profile of memory in such profoundly nourishing ways.

just another buổi sáng của những lần sau nữa.

hot banana bread topped with chilled hazelnut cocoa spread feels like biting into warm ice cream.

the purring of my cat, my own breathing, the chirping of birds outside, the rustling of sheets, tr-'s throat clearing; the ceramic dog hanging on the wall, the white wall behind it, the ceramic vase with swirling blue and green glazes, the paper door dimly lit, the books my friend gave me; my cat’s warmth, the softness of the blankets, the thin but comfortable mattress, and the weight of the phone in my hand.

đọc truyện kiều cùng bố và mẹ.

đi ăn trưa cùng ng- và the- tại pepe la poule rồi đi dạo rồi uống trà ở một trà quán tên tây an rồi đi đón cà kê rồi mười một giờ đêm vẫn chưa ngủ.

it’s in the darkness that i can see myself more clearly.

of my skinny legs running down lanes on bright summer days into a cool breeze rolling off the waves.

like the socket of an armpit, or the hollows at the base of the neck, the twin wells of the collarbone

now, with hindsight, everything makes more sense. it wasn’t by chance that every journey, every trip, every encounter, turned into this abyss — it all was carefully arranged waiting for its time. still, i am not a puppet of my darkness. i’ve come far to reach this point and now i realize that this chasm i’m facing is where decisions must be made. decisions that will lay the groundwork for what lies ahead. do i want to keep standing on the edge? i’m in a delicate situation, facing the consequences of my past choices, and left wondering: what choices will i make?.

điều mình nhận được khi nói không với giấc ngủ đó chính là việc giấc ngủ cũng sẽ nói không với mình.. giấc ngủ ơi xin hãy nói có, tôi đã sai rồi!

in a moment of drowsiness i found the room flooded with warm sunlight.

mệt và buồn ngủ và đã một giờ sáng tức là quá muộn.

after a full evening of cooking washing dishes cleaning up scooping the litter box preparing ingredients for the next day and mixing wine with plum juice, i somehow still manage to find a few minutes to play fetch with my dog.

one of the joys of the cold season is kidnapping my cat for a warm nap together (because he's so warm).

took my dog for a walk with p it was a cold windy afternoon and that’s why the park was so empty. The shameplants were blooming proudly, showing off their little pale violet flowers. My dog ran darted across the grass and into the reeds, his white tail fluttering among them on this chilly spring day.

curled up in bed with my book waiting for my mom to come home like a tree in the wintry cold longing to come back to life the hours seem to stretch on and on.

gió về rất khuya, lá rụng rất khuya
những cành mít ướt, chớm lạnh phố xưa
chuyến xe vắng liêu xiêu người đi qua cầu nghiêng gió
tiếng ai nói trên con đường xưa mưa về chân đê.
mái nhà đã rêu, bóng người cũng rêu
những hàng sấu đứng, nhớ chiều tóc xanh
nhớ những lúc ta trôi vào nhau như là mưa gió
nhớ những lúc ta như con thuyền xa bến sông

planned to pick up some chrysanthemum greens for lunch but tr- mentioned that our local pizza shop will be shutting down for good on Sunday so ended up ordering pizza to honor this beloved place.