The feelings have melted with each red light, merged with the brown colors and disappeared in the deep river bed. Only the wave full of pain remained, remaining silent forever.
I walked along the small alleyin Tho Ha ancient village, where there was still a wall made of small pieces of porcelain the color of eel skin. Gently stroke the broken pieces, but like a knife is cutting into the heart. Cut into the nostalgia for a country that is not where I was born, not where I used to be, but somehow, for decades, it’s always painful.
The wharf on the Cau River after a period of heavy pollution has been repaired, but how can it be restored to the “in the loose” in the past? Too much has been lost with Tho Ha ancient village‘s pottery making.
Some old houses with closed doors and bolts remained in the alleys. In the past, the quality of the North could only be left in the village gate, famous for being the most beautiful in the lower Cau River, on the roof of the communal house, the mossy pagoda roof, beside the hundred-year-old banyan trees.
Tho Ha ancient village still three sides of the river like an island, but where is the charm now? The narrow and deep old village streets and alleys that were once resplendent because of the beauty of the crockery and broken pottery walls were plastered with only mud from the Cau River.
The dark brown, thick ceramic surfaces, the knock sounds like the sound of steel, as if carrying the feelings of the last people who fell in love with Tho Ha ancient village in the past. Leaving an irreparable void in my memory, a nostalgia that has grown thicker over the years. Like the color music from nostalgia keeps humming.