Minh Châu

Author: Minh Châu

  • Poetry

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    by

    Minh Châu
    in

    In front of an open door I hesitate. The voice says come in and I rummage through my body but I have nothing to offer. The voice says give what I lack so I step in and the floor creaks. A crack. The voice says fix it so I bend down and there arise letters…

  • Home

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    by

    Minh Châu
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    is your mother’s hand spreading soft butter on your bread and as your half-dead morning eyes are not looking, she sneaks a green apple into your lunch box because apples are healthy. Have you eaten? What did you have for dinner? Home is your mother’s kitchen: you drooling fools suffocating in the sweet scent of…

  • A journey back home // 27.10.2025

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    Minh Châu
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    Migration is such a strange, conflicting thing to do. You leave the one environment you’ve ever known, only to build a home from scratch somewhere else, navigating ways of living through a language you barely understand. And yet, migration is probably the most natural, essential thing a living being can do. It’s a survival need…

  • Behind the Zine: “Changes”

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    Minh Châu
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    How much of who we are is reshaped by where we are? I remember the first time I left Vietnam. I was fourteen and about to embark on a major journey. In a little more than twenty-four hours, I would be thousands of miles away from home. I said goodbye to my cousin, whom I…