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During his working years, the small room at home, which he jokingly called his study to sound fancy, was piled high with belongings like a storage room because he was too lazy to clean it. He always rationalized that he was too busy with work to clean it up later, and that a small desk with enough space for his computer was sufficient for any work he needed to do at home. Now that he has some free time, he's finally tidying up the room, and he's surprised to realize how many things that were once indispensable during his working years are now gathering dust here, becoming witnesses to a not-so-distant past…

Look, this box in the far corner is a landline telephone. I remember back in the 1990s, having a private telephone was a big deal. At that time, offices had to send official documents through the Post Office , requesting that due to the specific nature of their work requiring immediate communication, they be prioritized to have telephones installed for certain employees. The day it was installed, the small alley where he lived was bustling with activity; so many people came to his house to use the telephone. Some late nights, he even had to sneak around calling his neighbors because there were calls from home reporting an emergency… Neighborhoods became closer through the telephone.

In the desk drawer, there was a towering stack of CDs, and among them were a few floppy disks. I remember when I first joined the office, my colleagues and I had to attend computer classes in the evenings. Back then, computers were incredibly rare, running MS-DOS and booting from floppy disks. Every time I sat down to work, I was constantly worried about what would happen if something went wrong and where we would get the money to pay for repairs. Then, for a while, all important documents, my colleagues and I copied onto CDs for long-term safekeeping. Little did we know that in a short time, no computer had a CD drive anymore. All the documents and images stored on them were kept as mementos; we couldn't bear to throw them away.

On the bookshelf, there are several albums for storing business cards. He still maintains the habit of keeping all the business cards he's ever received. For many years, these small rectangular pieces of paper containing basic information about the owner, used for exchanging upon meeting or working together, had become a cultural norm. When meeting for business, the first formal step was exchanging business cards. Some people kept it simple, printing on plain paper; others, more meticulous about personal details, printed on scented paper. The business card also reflected a person's personality. Some people only included the most basic information, while others listed their full titles, membership in various associations and organizations... Now, it seems that business cards are rarely used, perhaps only by businesses and service providers who want customers to remember their address and phone number. Hesitantly browsing through the business cards, the familiar faces, the names lost in memory, some people try to recall them but can't remember when they met. Suddenly I remembered a poem by Bui Minh Quoc: "Sometimes, on the bustling road of life, we unknowingly pass each other by, carelessly walking past each other, unaware that we are losing each other..."

There are so many things, each covered in the dust of time, each reminding me of days gone by. The film camera, the stack of cassette tapes from job interviews… Time flows on like a river, carrying with it countless unexpected things. Some things were common and essential in a bygone era, only to be replaced the next by something more modern and convenient. Each object has its own life, and when unexpectedly encountered, it evokes memories of a bygone era.

Only then will we have people in life who are deeply attached to the past, who enjoy returning to nostalgic memories. And only then will we have cafes decorated with items from the subsidy era, and luxurious restaurants displaying only old farming tools…

No matter how modern life becomes, there are still moments when our hearts hesitate before the passage of time.

MERCURY

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