About This Work

Warm winter fire in the city when the leaves of the banyan tree turn bright red like a fire still hanging on the trees. The long alleys are filled with the cries of street vendors. I remember the scene of friends huddled together around charcoal stoves grilling corn and hot sweet potatoes. It seems that winter melts away in the small gifts from the countryside to the city. And winter is also an opportunity for us to show off many colorful sweaters and winter coats to: “You walk in the middle of the crowded street in red/The green trees seem to glow pink/You walk, the fire burns in many eyes Warm winter fire drives away the feeling of dampness and mist. And the most fearful thing is that people’s souls are damp, their hearts are moldy because of the distance and indifference that makes them want to curl up. The warm winter fire seems to invite us to come closer together, to open our hearts to each other more. And the winter sun is just beginning to shine. One wave is smooth and shimmering, one is sparkling and bright. It is like honey, the honey is as sweet as the honey of baked sweet potatoes... The warm winter fire reminds us to live slowly to taste and hear the invisible sounds to understand more clearly the value of life, the freshness and warmth, quietly seeping into us like a new energy. I suddenly remember two lines of poetry by Xuan Dieu: "Hearing the cold creeping in the wind/There are no people crossing the ferry". That delicate and touching sensitivity helps us like a support, and the warm fire is the catalyst, the spice that embellishes without being superficial or neglectful... The warm winter fire reminds me of my grandmother. Oh, in a lifetime, we are only children twice, when we are old enough to remember and forget. She fights the cold with strong, spicy betel leaves and a bowl of steaming, golden green tea.