summer class
The bus driver turned on the radio. A music of the 50s 60s of the last century made the scene before my eyes became nostalgic. The bus started to go up Chuong Duong bridge across the Red River, the connection between Hanoi and the suburban. Below, there were long-running straight rows of corn on the ground fed by fertile alluvium. Sunshine spilled on the surface of the river. The blue sky was filled with soft clouds floating like white foam. The winds came through the window carrying an uncomfortable smell of earth, an odorous aroma of corn and a salty tatse of the silt.
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