The boy was playing with his hand in an empty box at a cafe table

Boy putting hands into empty box — Boy sticking his hand into the empty box

On a roadside café table in My Tho, a small boy was completely absorbed in his own universe. Half of his tiny body sprawled across the tabletop, he dug both hands into an empty cardboard box as if searching for buried treasure. The box read HERO—the kind of bold name you’d expect from instant coffee rather than an actual superhero—but to him it might as well have been a magic chest. Every so often he let out a high-pitched squeal, the sort that announces to the world, I am here, and I am entertained.

When I raised my camera, he glanced at me for the briefest moment. His expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and indifference, but the verdict came quickly—whatever game he was playing with that empty box mattered far more. Becoming a “subject” in a stranger’s travel photo did not register anywhere in his hierarchy of concerns. To him, my presence had the weight of a single grain of dust on the floor.

From the back of the café drifted the slow, sweet aroma of Vietnamese coffee dripping through a metal filter. That potent marriage of bitterness and condensed milk suits the climate here perfectly. Yet I hesitated for a moment. It occurred to me, not entirely without reason, that the café might simply serve the very same instant coffee whose empty box had just been promoted to the rank of “toy.”

My Tho on Google Map

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