Memories of a time when students dreamed rushing back. The petals are thin and light, holding the gong in the wind. The notebook gently presses the petals who give it, but keeps it forever in the student’s age.
In May, I felt like I was floating in the vast land of colorful flowers and memories. Illustration In May, I felt like I was floating in the vast expanse of colorful flowers and memories. It seems that a whole sky of memories is brought back forever of a period of nostalgia. The roads in May are high and wide, sunny and windy, carrying a busy summer on their shoulders. To be amazed by the purple color filled with mausoleums on each street, each road marked the footprints. The familiar road that is usually passed every day turns purple. Chan in the summer sun as if to alleviate some of the glare and harshness. To leave a mark. Looking up at each bunch of flowers, we feel lost in the midst of the vastness. The two sides of the road are dyed purple with mausoleums, so the heart is forever, the car is hesitant to move. Memories of a time when students dreamed rushing back. The petals are thin and light, holding the gong in the wind. The notebook gently presses the petals who give it, but keeps it forever in the student’s age. The corner of the schoolyard is filled with green leaves and purple colors every summer like a slow, romantic and peaceful movie. Where the students often sit forever at recess or review together at the end of the course, at the end of the year. That place is like a private pride, a special hidden space of the beloved school. Summer is adorned with colorful flowers marking a separate territory that cannot be mixed. The sky is filled with red phoenix. Recovering, agitated, wistfully calling the student’s name. The more radiant and fresh Phuong becomes, the closer the day of parting comes. As much as the children are eager for the summer vacation, the seniors will be quiet, thinking, and sad all the time. Sadness is about to leave school, away from teachers and close friends. Even though the month of May is unintentionally sown in people’s hearts, unrelenting pain. The hot summer sun softens before the pink and white color of the lotus returns to the city. Sen back to town on simple and simple bicycles. The lotus brings with it the peace and serenity of flowers rising up in the mud to soften the harshness of the sun, the glare of the season, the noise of the city. The street seems quieter, more peaceful. May knows how to plant a small but painful nostalgia in our hearts. Like canary yellow dyed the whole sky. Above, there is only a space that is as bright as sunshine, fresh and full of life. Flowers fall in bunches from above to wide, spacious. Only a quiet flower tree at the front gate lit up a sunny space. Someone bustling together to keep memories. Years have passed, the student days are far away, but still in memory the familiar image of the canary tree dyes the memory yellow. Thinking about summer, people cringe back to the days of intense sunburn. But Hanoi has its own way to cool the souls of those who stay and those who leave. With a gentle pure lotus flower, with a calm green lotus leaf, fragrant nuggets are wrapped. With mausoleums, phoenixes, canaries in the sky. By a small alley, accepting the sunlight as clear as honey, it adorns the yellow wall. There is a summer in May somewhere that is always so warm and yet so gentle in my heart…
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