bản sits on the second floor of an old french-era apartment, tucked inside alley 38 le loi — where louvered shutters, checkered tiles and the gold-script sign of mỹ viện duyên still keep the old saigon air.

come up to floor 2: manga taped across the ceiling, japanese movie posters beside a vintage red tv, paper lanterns and furin wind chimes by the bamboo-blind windows. one side bright for laptops, one corner dim for readers.
inside stands a floor-to-ceiling dark-wood bookshelf wall: comics, novels, a vintage camera. a leather armchair, a tatami-style loft, and a balcony overlooking the street.
paper straws, bát tràng ceramic cups, books borrowed and returned to the shelf. and that quiet room is also for rent — meetups, events, workshops, photo and film shoots.
the space has two faces: one bathed in daylight for laptops and groups, one moody with edison bulbs, paper lanterns and comic pages on the ceiling for readers. young people in headphones, open books, ice slowly melting.



the space has two faces: one bathed in daylight for laptops and groups, one moody with edison bulbs, paper lanterns and comic pages on the ceiling for readers. young people in headphones, open books, ice slowly melting.