Tho Ha ancient village seems to be forgotten

Tho Ha ancient village is a place to give wings to painters and photographers to fulfill their passion in works of art imbued with Vietnamese soul.

The kitchen in Tho Ha ancient village always has a fire passed down through generations. The smoldering fire burned all night long with logs, piles of husks. And every morning, when that fire was blown by her mother, a faint blue smoke appeared, filtered through the rays of sunlight from the gaps, signaling the beginning of a new day. That smoke, normally we don’t feel it, we are used to indifference to it and only when we go far away, the further away it becomes, the more clearly it shows up in our minds, making us restless and restless. So the Tho Ha ancient village with the house our parents grew up in is visible with many eyes, smiles, mixed joys and sorrows…

Urban life makes that kitchen smoke only in the subconscious. Today’s meals are cooked with electric cookers and gas stoves. The rice cooker was cold, and the gas flame was green. All are soulless, not close at all. Rice soup cooked and “way!” – the ghost flame disappeared. When the power plug is removed from the socket, the clean stove is cold again, without any fire, without the smell of rotten wood and smoke that stings our eyes, not even the color of soot, pot stains, and ashes. Ashes flew up and the silhouette of a cat hid in the attic waiting for prey. More frightening, many families have no concept of kitchen anymore. They use boxed lunches, restaurant meals or eat cold food, canned goods bought from the beginning of the week and stored in the refrigerator. Many families, husband and wife, children leave alone in the morning, and gather around the tray of rice in the dark.

Industrial life can’t catch your breath. Just gnawing on a piece of bread, people just ran into the factory to keep up before the two iron gates under the sign full of foreign words closed immediately, otherwise they would lose their salary that day. That’s it! This long-lasting blue smoke was traded for food at a time when there were few options and no mind to be nostalgic on the highway towards integration. Today is happier, not only full but delicious, not only healthy but beautiful, but many attachments of the past have become memories. It is also a necessity of life. I just hope we don’t forget the past, don’t lose a part of our hearts

Every time I return to Tho Ha ancient village, I will always visit the old garden and hope that somewhere from the neighboring houses, a smoke will fly into the sky like a pattern. I admire that smoke with a respectful heart like towards the soul of the country that settles deep in my heart. Then I said to myself: Every year, we must return to the old village, the place where we and our children’s real umbilical cords were buried, nor let them forget the place where there was blue smoke on the land and gardens.

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