Silently watching the water hyacinths drift by.

The building's exterior reflected the blue sky and white clouds, creating an even more striking image. But my eyes couldn't help but drift down to the river in front of me, where a strong, distinctive scent of the river region emanated. Then, I saw moving green dots in my vision, drifting closer and closer. It turned out to be clumps of water hyacinths bobbing on the waves. They followed the current, never stopping for a moment. A stark contrast to the most vibrant city in the country.

Lặng ngắm lục bình trôi - Ảnh 2. — Water hyacinths not only remind me of the past but also make me think of the people living in this city: quietly, struggling to make a living, but never giving up.

The river's surface often ripples with waves due to the constant passage of boats and ships, and occasionally a barge passes by. The water hyacinths, however, seem unaffected by these things, calmly drifting along to their own rhythm: gently, silently, slowly. I am no stranger to this plant. When I was little, whenever the purple flowers of the water hyacinth bloomed and covered the pond's edge, I would often wade in to pick them to play pretend. The flowers are beautiful but fragile and quickly wither, requiring careful handling. A little older, I used to sit for hours gazing at the flowers under the deep red sunset. Those dreamy afternoons during my youth sometimes leave me speechless for a long time when I recall them.

Now, I'm surprised to see water hyacinths again in the heart of the city. I thought the city was just crowded streets, skyscrapers, and luxurious, expensive shops. Who would have thought there would be a glimpse of my hometown here? It seems the plants here live a very different life, completely separate from the splendor and glitter that can be found anywhere else in this place. Watching the water hyacinths drift, I forget all the noise and crowds, no longer remembering the car horns, the pungent smell of engines, gasoline, and dust under the scorching sun that seems to burn my shoulders. Only a calm, peaceful feeling remains. It turns out the city has such a peaceful place, making me want to stand by the riverbank, letting the wind blow through my hair, reluctant to leave.

Across the river, towering buildings still strive towards the sky, people hurrying about in a fast-paced life. On this side, people sit leisurely, quietly enjoying their drinks, sharing endless stories of life and watching the river flow. Beneath the trees, I see an old man sleeping on a folding chair next to his old bicycle. His face shows no trace of worry. Water hyacinths drift between these two worlds , creating a strange harmony. The boundary created by the river, enhanced by the water hyacinths, is further tinged with green and purple. Suddenly, I feel a pang of homesickness, a longing for the past.

"Where do the water hyacinths come from? Where are they going?" I asked my friend casually.

"How would I know? But it doesn't matter, does it?" Your voice drifted on the wind, fading away on the river's surface.

I suddenly realized you were just as dazed as I was.

Well, it doesn't matter. Water hyacinths will always drift aimlessly on the river. It was like that in the past, and it won't change now or in the future because of anyone or anything. And aren't I also drifting along the vast currents of life? If so, I too am a cluster of water hyacinths, taking on the form of a human being. Who knows where my footprints will be tomorrow ? That morning, a strange city suddenly became familiar to me thanks to this humble plant. My solitary journey gained an interesting stop, easing my confusion and loneliness.

Water hyacinths drift endlessly, never stopping, never disappearing, silently clinging to what is old and familiar. Water hyacinths not only remind me of the past but also make me think of the people living in this city: quietly, struggling to make a living, yet never giving up. They remain resilient, clinging to the river of life even when battered and battered by the waves. Their lives may seem small, but their vitality is never depleted; on the contrary, adversity only fuels that vitality, making it stronger and more powerful over time.

The Saigon River silently meanders through the city. It carries within it the memories of a bygone era. The continuity between past and present, between rural and urban, between simplicity and sophistication in this life is often not expressed through obvious achievements, but simply through the image of a river flowing through the city, carrying clusters of water hyacinths drifting silently. To see this, we need to pause, quiet our hearts, and gaze into the vast expanse. Each of us needs so many such moments of quietude in our lives.