THE WOODEN NECKLACE.

Hot chocolate. 

Let me acknowledge to type again. These few weeks have been rough and exciting in an oddly unpredictable way. I've been hyped, blind, and weirdly enough, calm after a long while of disappointment and discontent. When it hits the deepest it could get, something rises up in return. 

I cleaned my room today. God knows what the heck I'd been stocking. Everything was dirty, messy, some covered in stains, some stunk, some even stroke me with surprise for their unbelievable uselessness. However, some reminded me of home, the one I had ten years ago. In that exact corner of the room, with that exact jewelry, I was looking at myself in the mirror, wearing a cheap wooden necklace, and thinking: "Nope. Never again." It went straight to my childhood box for years and years, so one day, one random day, to be discovered again. That day was today. Sunday, 11th July, 2016. I stared at the wooden necklace for minutes, held it tight in silence, and put it in the throw-away box. In the process of cleaning, certain things are meant to remind us of ourselves and be placed proudly on top of the shelves, some, however, should be remembered in our heart not as an object but a dearly memory. Therefore, its past belongs to the trash. Its presence stays. Its future remains unclear. 

I threw away a lot of 'wooden necklaces' today. I also kept plenty. New 'wooden necklaces' will soon fill this room. A piano, a white table for pattern cutting, a sewing machine, perhaps soon, a mannequin.

A picture book of artist Bui Xuan Phai was found next to my old bookshelf. Such a beautiful product of technology and dreams. Written in English and French, full of paintings and sketches. I wasn't surfing the book. I was detaching it. Chunks of paper were glued by moss and dirt. The end of it had an ancient corpse of a young brownish spider. As if the grief of ruined beauty couldn't get any sadder, a Japanese notebook came up in the same condition. Goodbye friends. I will find you in another copy and we'll soon meet again. 

Tomorrow will be busy. I'm up for it with all my heart. Today has been a ride of sweat and smiles. I rewarded myself with a bowl of ramen, Earl Grey, and hot chocolate at Tadioto. You know I'm happy. Now is the time for a good sleep and a definitive enter. I'll hit Publish and on this side of the globe, we'll go to bed, while on the other side, people will close this post and go on with their lives. Some of them will clean their room today and find their own 'wooden necklaces'. Such random happiness, don't you think?

Earl Grey.

Miso, the saltiest option.

Reminds me of an African cult.

Is it some kind of mother goddess worshipping? 

An illustration in the Mekong Review.

I found it under this. Will try the yellow bottle next time.

They put a branch of leaves up there. Lime leaves?

COFFEE COLD BY GALT MACDERMOT.

This morning is coated with frozen breaths and rain. It rains differently in a tropical country. What a pity letting our shoes dip into the density of inconvenience. This kind of weather makes me long for noodles, any kind at all. Chewy dough, hard-boiled egg, tender meat, spicy soup, delightful veges. Those remind me of Motosan-Uber. I'm probably one of the few ones who give them compliments for the ramen. As artificial as it tastes, it's my ritual after hot chocolate or Earl Grey. It's my second stop after going for a walk, my second round for my stomach. And it actually rhymes.

I miss my unfinished paintings. I want to hug each of them and say I'm sorry for leaving them undone for so long. The colors, the paper, the smell of unfinished work. It cuts me. If the crayons and pencils had a brain, they would realize how terrible I am and rush to the door immediately. Even the paintings on the wall would break the frames and run away. My cats would help them run faster. The squeeky birds would stand next to the windows and sing bravo. Many things will happen in the ironic calculation of God to finally lead to the explosion of one big failure. Suddenly I'm well-known for no reason.

RAMEN NIGHT AKA JAMIE BOUTIQUE

It's me.

Moto-san Uber has become my midnight-snack stop since the very first bowl of ramen I had. The flavor is shown both through the ingredients and the decoration, which give me a sense of what the owner is like. Last night was the start of monsoon. It was cold enough to chill and walk the streets with ease. My friend and I were enjoying our Shio and Miso while listening to French music, questioning about the Moroccan sign in front of us and staring at the Vietnamese perfume rings above our heads. 

I suppose the owner is fond of Moroccan culture, which is another reason why I like Moto-san. After reading "The Alchemist", Morocco became my bucket-list place to visit. I also have a thing for the Egyptian, Arabian vibe. "One Thousand and One Nights" caused me a lot of troubles for reading it during my nap time at school. The teacher kept taking my book away and said she'd only return it to me once I finally slept. Faking it wasn't hard at all. I ended up being addicted to mysterious stories and got into witch crafts. It wasn't related to the book. But things in blur fascinate me.

Anyway, I put all the photos from last night in one post. This one. If you're around The Opera House, check out this place, 4 Ly Dao Thanh street. You may see me here at night after having Earl Grey, feel free to say hi because I may give you some more addresses for your favorite dishes. Enjoy! 

This is my friend. She's an artist.

I took this photo the other time I had Shio. It went from Miso, Shoyu to Shio. The lightest to the saltiest. 

Wrapping cake made of steamed wheat flour. 

Um. Random shot. I have a thing for yellow.

It's a small food stall but more comfortable than many ones I've been to.

Moroccan sign. Something about labor I think.

The perfume rings. There were several of them.

I'm hungry, just looking at it.

I tried changing the filter to black and white and it was still beautiful.

Located in one of the most prosperous streets in Hanoi.

Here's the address.

Running into this place gave me a same-name situation. Fun!

Headless man. The window display of a tailoring boutique.

This chilly season encourages people to smoke.