In the thin smoke of the January kitchen, The riverbank, eyes narrow, boats ferrying across. The fields, narrow and cramped in the harvest season,
By Hải Phạm2 months ago in BookClub
If I could... I would return To find the kites of my childhood once had To seek the faint smoke drifting in the wind To reclaim the dreams of my enchanted youth.
Con grew up from the hunched back of mother Father's salty sweat drops on his shirt From the sun and rain of July, of March
We often hear intriguing stories about a family or a certain region being "trấn yểm," but not everyone knows what "trấn yểm" truly means.
By Hải Phạm2 months ago in Psyche