Ho Chi Minh City
It was the end of her night.
‘How are you doing, kiddo?’
Quynh looked at the message on her phone for a few minutes.
Having all by herself for three years, Quynh learned one thing: living by oneself has its own advantages. In her case, it was the freedom to do everything she wanted to without worrying about someone actually cared about it. She looked out into the street indifferently. She wondered what life was, or should be. Did it have any concrete shape, or was it just an illusional, yet beautiful image she had in her own mind? Did everything she was looking at now have any meaning to her life?
Cars. Motorcycles. People. Life. Everything was moving continuously, not caring about anything but itself. Continue reading “The Nights”
The alley was dirty and full of nasty smells.
Tam kicked an empty can, lying on her path, away. It hit the moss-grown wall on her right. The echoed sound made her more annoyed.
The alley was once again quiet.
‘Damn it! Damn it!’
Tam talked to herself. She was on the way home. Her feelings were not very good tonight. They were not so good every single night. She walked slowly along the poorly–lit alley. The dim lights made it look like an endless road.
Throwing away her cigarette, Tam noticed the bruises on her wrists and fingers. She sniffed indifferently. As far back as she could remember, all her life had been a miserable story. Why should someone like her concern about being hurt? Her drunken father was killed by alcohol, obviously. He irresponsibly left Tam and her little sister with his wife, whose job was swearing and beating her daughters. Continue reading “The Alley”