She writes little, very little, yet Trang’s words move with remarkable ease: soft sighs, gentle sobs, echoes of the bewildering turns of everyday life. her life. But she does not write to “search for lost time” in the Proustian sense; rather, she writes to seize, however briefly, what is slipping away, those moments just beyond her grasp, the unforeseen accidents of being.

One might see these fragments as the quiet rebellions of her own shadow.

What captivates me most is her equilibrium: an honesty of thought rendered in language that feels fresh, precise, and vividly alive. Her words arrive like shrimp freshly netted from the sea of emotion, still wriggling in the first light of dawn, or glinting in the sudden glow of a sunset that disperses sorrow.

Reading Trang, for me, is a journey toward what is being lost.​

- Du Tử Lê.