Tag: Language-English

Một phần trăm trước khi tuyệt vọng/One percent prior to despair

~ Lily ~ Leave a comment

Một phần trăm trước khi tuyệt vọng

những tối như tối nay tôi không thể ở trong căn phòng mình, phải tìm cớ ra ngoài.
em gái viết bảo đau đầu. ghét khoảng thời gian này trong ngày. có cảm giác muốn chết.
tôi cũng có cảm giác ấy. độ bốn đến sáu giờ chiều. những ngày này, trời mau buông tối.
một người nói, bạn đừng đến thành phố của tôi những ngày này, nỗi niềm tê tái của bầu trời khiến người ta u buồn.
tôi muốn nói, thành phố của bạn có não nề bằng thành phố của tôi?
tôi luôn rảo bước nhanh, đôi lúc thoáng sợ những người xung quanh mình.
những ánh nhìn có màu xám, nặng trĩu, như thực tại giữa tôi và họ. khoảng cách giữa chúng tôi.
trái tim của chúng tôi dường như không có nét gì giống nhau.
tôi thủy chung cùng một ai đó, tình cảm dành riêng cho anh, không muốn nhìn ai khác, không muốn nghĩ về ai khác.
nhưng không yêu anh.
không thoải mái trải lòng cùng anh. cũng không thật tin anh.
từ khi mới thở, vốn không thể tin tưởng người khác hoàn toàn, nhiều lắm đâu chừng chín chín phần trăm.
vì một phần trăm đó, chưa bao giờ tôi yêu được một người.
vừa thoáng phải lòng đã thấy mình phản bội.
vì một phần trăm.
tôi gặp một người bạn, cười nói và ăn tối.
trước khi gọi món đã hình dung ra mùi vị của món ấy trong vòm miệng.
bất giác chỉ muốn nhắm mắt lại
quên đi tất cả những điều này.
có thể, sau sáu giờ tối,
khi bóng đêm tràn khắp,
tôi sẽ vui lên một chút.
góp nhặt một chút hạnh phúc, một chút hy vọng,
không cần những gì quá lớn lao,
đưa tôi từ giây này sang giây tiếp theo bình an.
vì một chút những thứ không rõ tên,
vì một phần trăm chưa thể nào trao gửi,
tôi đã cứu mình khỏi rất nhiều lần
trước những bánh xe di chuyển quá nhanh.
trước mỗi ngày trôi qua quá nhanh.
chỉ có cơn tuyệt vọng của tôi,
thật chậm

____________________________________________________________

I wrote this piece in Vietnamese then translated to English myself. Sometimes I do it the other way around – write in English then translate to Vietnamese. This process is always challenging because of the differences between both languages, yet it mesmerizes me since I love them both.

 

One percent prior to despair

during nights like tonight I cannot stay at my place, must find an excuse to go out.
little sister wrote about her headache. hated this time of the day. felt like she wanted to die.
I have that feeling too. around four to six p.m. these days, the night comes quickly.
one friend said, ‘do not come to my city these days, the grieving sadness of the sky makes people depressed.
I wanted to say, ‘would your city be more melancholic than mine?’
I always pick up my walking steps, sometimes slightly scared of the people around.
the glances colored grey, oppressed, like the reality between them and me. the distance between us.
our hearts do not seem to bear any resemblance.
I am loyal to someone, devote my admiration to only him, do not want to look at anybody else, do not want to think of anyone else.
yet do not love him.
do not feel comfortable unfolding my heart to him. do not really trust him.
since my first breath, I cannot fully trust others, perhaps as much as ninety-nine percent.
due to the remaining one percent, never have I ever been able to love a person.
the first glimpse of love already comes with the guilt of betrayal.
because of one percent.
I meet a friend, laugh, talk, and have dinner.
before ordering food I already imagine its flavor in my mouth.
suddenly just want to close my eyes
forget about all of this.
perhaps, after six p.m.,
when darkness emerges,
I will be slightly more cheerful.
collect some happiness, some hope,
no need for anything extravagant,
bringing me from one moment to the next safely.
because of a little of the unnamed things,
because of one percent that has not been given,
I have many times saved myself from
the wheels that move so fast.
the every day that passes by so fast.
only my despair,
so slow

[Summer Read] Bringing Home The Birkin by Michael Tonello

~ Lily ~ 1 Comment
I was both pleased and a bit sad to finish Bringing Home The Birkin by Michael Tonello this evening. Pleased because it was another highly entertaining book in my summer reading list. Sad because I wanted to read more.

Bringing Home The Birkin is the real story of how Michael traveled around the world (US, Europe, South America, and a bit of Asia) to find the Birkins for his eBay customers who are obsessed with the famous bags from the House of Hermes. The Hermes Berkin is so famous and desirable mainly for three reasons: top quality (leather & croc), price ($8,000 to $80,000 give or take), and rarity. Rarity was perhaps the key to the story due to the notorious one to two-year waiting list for the Berkin. Rich and famous would not guarantee you a Birkin. Michael, however, found a secret formula to bring home the Birkin for his customers, so he went everywhere – from the largest flagship Hermes store in Paris (24 Faubourg Saint Honore) to the tiny Hermes store in Capri, Italy.

Originally from Massachusetts, Michael decided to move to Barcelona after a make-up gig because (1) he was so much in love with the city and (2) someone promised him a job there. (1) has not changed. As for (2), after signing a five-year lease on his new Barcelona apartment, Michael found out to his amazement and frustration that the job was not gonna happen. Only then had he discovered eBay so that he could sell off some of the items in his closet, including a Hermes pashmina scarf that would change his life forever.

I really love the book because, as much as the Birkin is the main catch of the story, Bringing Home The Birkin is essentially about the human psychology and behavioral economics. We know that a crocodile bag is expensive, but the price of a Hermes croc bag would not be so high if customers did not drool for it. Regardless of how rare the material is, if there were no significant demand, Hermes would simply be unable to charge thousands of dollars for a bag. As if it was not difficult enough for customers to find a Birkin, Hermes made sure it was more the case by different techniques including keeping a waiting list with high-profile customers, putting “Reserved” sign on the only display bag, and limiting the number of Birkins sold to each customer in every purchase. Hermes’ strategy and customers’ perception worked so well together they proved one thing: in luxury fashion, the intrinsic value of an item is much lower than the value perceived by its customers. Hermes customers made the connection not only between rarity and value but also between rarity and social status. Michael Tonello knew it only too well he went on a journey that led to the most awesomely ridiculous relationships along the line of his eBay business.

Yet, even the most outrageously beautiful dream does not last forever. The last chapter was about Michael waking up from his orange-coated dream. It was quite personal and not as glamorous as the previous chapters, but absolutely my favorite. I almost felt the pain in his words, and he could have made it even more dramatic, but he chose not to. It was simply not his style. When I read his book, I could almost picture him sitting right there telling me the stories. Once he started, I could not stop listening, and once he stopped I wish he would have moved on. Nonetheless, a good reader must have some patience. I’ll be waiting for the next Michael Tonello book. Meanwhile, if you have a sparkling interest in fashion especially in handbags, luxury fashion, and particularly Hermes, I highly recommend this book. And if you ever want to bring home a Birkin, this is a website of “Sarah”, one of Michael’s customers who turned out to be another reseller: Createurs Deluxe. You could access some excerpts from the book here.