Returning home this time, she lingered over the beginning of spring.

March is sunny. The yellow apricot blossoms are still sparse but their fragrance still lingers on the roads from the inner city to the suburbs. The streets are like impressive paintings painted with the yellow tones of sunlight. Honey yellow, lemon yellow and hundreds of shades changing with each moment. The deep green of Thien An - Vong Canh hills. The soft waves of the Huong River sparkle with silver light. Small villages gather warmly with the colors of young green, old green. High-rise buildings open towards the dawn... We clicked the camera continuously. She was as happy as a little girl in the middle of the vast street.

Her teenage years with Hue were poetic rivers in the heart of the city, green student streets, dusty ferry docks. Xep market, No market, Dong Ba market with fresh vegetables, bustling shrimp and fish. Grass fields along the Perfume River, Thien An hillside, Gia Long tomb, Thieu Tri tomb... That river, the color of grass, the color of the sky in that frame still retain the familiar scent, the old silhouette, gentle, intimate...

Stopping by Con Hen for a bowl of corn sweet soup, I gave her a photo from more than twenty years ago. We were tiny under the coconut tree by Truong Tien bridge, looking into the lens and smiling.

Remembering the appointment of the street photographer, the two sisters still eagerly arrived at the shop early to conveniently peek at the photographer with parted hair applying color, as people often call make-up artists today. The sawtooth frame was curled, the color of the photo had faded, but I remember how happy the two of us were.

We made an appointment to go to the apricot garden in front of the Imperial City. Tourists in groups with flags leading the way stopped to check in. The pure yellow apricot blossoms spread in the spring breeze, blending with the lingering incense smoke. The mossy walls caught the light, creating a surprisingly beautiful frame. We took pictures of the tea hedges as a background of the light blue silk dress. She smiled charmingly, the gentle and graceful features of Ton Nu still intact.

The weather was beautiful. She went to the mussel rice shop. Herbs, sour star fruit, blanched bean sprouts, white vermicelli. Holding the camera to clearly record the smoke rising from the boiling mussel pot, she leaned over to my ear: One winter day in Berlin, open this photo and the sour, spicy, salty, sweet taste of today's rice will follow me, making me miss it...

Every time I called from far away, she would tell me a long story. That she missed me so much that I was restless. She missed the food her mother cooked, the food at the market, she missed Hue so much that she dreamed. She missed the cool green spaces like places where people could return to breathe lightly. She missed the city like a river that was not too noisy, just flowing quietly, a leisurely, elegant, and gentle stream.

The returns, the encounters are so short. The moment, immediately after that, becomes a part of the past.

She was moved: But what we want to preserve in these frames are warm memories of Hue. The distant homeland that children far away still long for the day to return.

White Leaf

Source: https://huengaynay.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/nhung-khung-hinh-mien-co-thom-151996.html