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A LITTLE MORE JOY IN EVERY DAY

THÚ VỊ MỖI NGÀY

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Collection Of Story

Stories and perspectives picked for your day.

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Collection Of Story

Collection Of Story

The Silence Between Two Moments of Haste

There are days when we wake to the sound of an alarm, step into a stream of messages, work, appointments, and tasks to be completed before we have even realized that we are tired. The pace of modern life often turns haste into an invisible measure. Those who reply quickly are seen as considerate, those

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When Old Things Remind Us That We’ve Grown Up

There are days when, while cleaning the house, we come across a shirt with worn shoulders, a notebook with only a few pages written in it, a chipped mug, or an old ticket forgotten in a drawer. These things no longer have much practical value. They may be outdated, damaged, or completely unsuited to our

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Collection Of Story

The Basket Weaver by the Old Riverbank

The River After the Flood Season On the day Lam returned, the river had almost completely receded from the alluvial bank. Dark streaks of mud still marked the bamboo stalks, the feet of the posts, and even the stone surface in front of the small hut. After the flood season, the riverbank often wore the

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Collection Of Story

The Bell Keeper and the Season of Low Water

Long ago, at the edge of a great plain, there was a small village nestled beside a river that was full of water all year round. The villagers called it the Cloud River, not because the water was the color of clouds, but because each morning, mist rose in soft white ribbons, covering the bamboo

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The House with a Door Opening into Dawn

The House on the Hillside At the far end of Moc Village, where the winding dirt road met the foot of the mountain, there stood a small house with a moss-green tiled roof. The villagers called it the House of Dawn, though no one had ever seen dawn step out through its weathered wooden door.

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The Blue Garment Sewn for the Day of Return

Minh returned to the village on a drizzly afternoon. The road leading into the hamlet had been paved with concrete long ago, but the two rows of hibiscus along the roadside were still there, their red flowers appearing faintly behind the thin veil of rain. The car stopped in front of the old tiled-roof house,

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The Clock That Did Not Run Through the Rainy Season

On the day he returned, Minh saw the clock hanging on the living room wall before he had a chance to see his mother. It was still in its old position, above the wooden cabinet that had darkened through many rainy seasons. A thin scratch ran across the glass from the upper-left corner to near

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The Keeper of Seeds by the Dry River

The Prolonged Dry Season Long ago, in a land lying between two low ranges of hills, there was a river that flowed gently year-round through rice fields. The villagers called it the Mơ River, because its water was so clear that one could see the pebbles lying on the riverbed, while in the early mornings,

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The Room Waiting for Sunlight

At the end of a small alley, behind a bougainvillea trellis that had faded with age, there was a room with no sign. Its wooden door was usually open from early afternoon until the streetlamp across the road came on. People in the neighborhood called it the room waiting for sunlight, though no one remembered

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The Bellmaker and the Silent Monsoon

Long ago, at the foot of a green mountain range veiled in clouds all year round, there was a village called Vọng Âm. The village bore that name because in the past, all one had to do was stand on the high ground at the village entrance and call out, and the sound would echo

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The Lamplighter at the End of the Slope

At the far end of White Cloud Village was a long, winding slope, twisting like a thread someone had dropped halfway down the mountainside. During the day, the slope was unremarkable apart from its jagged stone steps and the two rows of wild grass that were constantly bent sideways by the wind. But when evening

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The Well That Could Hear the Truth

At the end of Moc Tam Village stood a stone well that had been dry for many years. Green moss covered its mouth, and the well wall was cracked with fine lines like birds’ footprints. Beside it grew an old fig tree that had leaves all year round but rarely bore fruit. No one in

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