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As nature out there changes seasons, people here are going through a transition: a period of new things blooming, when the old things have not completely ended.
This is Long Bien bridge, a historical part of Hanoi. In my dream, I remembered the day when I was a child and my grandfather rode a bicycle on the bridge, watching the Red River flowing under my feet, dropping downhill to the bridge and then going all the way to Tran Nhat Duat to go home. Under the spindly tree branches, I passed by a small alley without bothering to look back. My childhood was like a slow-motion movie, just passing by before my eyes.
If you ever feel confused, or want to express your feelings to the person you love, try sending your thoughts through handwritten letters. Even if the words are a bit clumsy or neat, they have the ability to make you feel nostalgic, moved and empathized right from the moment you put pen to paper.
This space has not changed much compared to 70 years ago, when Uncle Thang's father came here to set up shop. There is still a large wooden table that takes up half of the room along with a set of lathes and grinders; Drumsticks and pulleys from wood still dangle; Even the puppy looks exactly the same.