Casual Conversation: A Peaceful Afternoon

Following the October 23rd road, I crossed the Cau Ke road, turned towards the Cau Ke church. At the end of the road was a rice field, next to a small stream, with a railway track crossing it. Leaving my motorbike on the dirt road below, I walked up to the railway embankment and watched the sunset from the pedestrian section of the bridge. There were also people fishing, some casting their lines from the bridge, others sitting by the riverbank. Usually, they sat silently, almost motionless. On windy days, I heard someone say casually, "It's too windy today, I guess there won't be any fish."

Across the railway tracks, a sandbar rises in the middle of the river; in the summer, I used to see fathers bringing their children here to fly kites, but now someone's flock of ducks scurries around in a green net enclosure. Standing on the bridge, listening to the wind rustling in my ears, I gaze at the winding river and ponder. Life is like a river; all rivers flow to the sea. It's the winding, meandering course that creates beautiful, poetic scenery. Human life is also like that; winding and curving, sometimes smooth, sometimes encountering obstacles—that's what life is all about.

One afternoon, I cycled to the Phu Kien wooden bridge over Vinh Ngoc. Riding along the Cai River, I felt a different kind of peace; the river on this side was more lively with boats coming and going, and the sound of motorbikes clattering on the wooden bridge echoed. The sounds faded into the distance, and then, to my surprise, a cafe appeared ahead, its exterior shaded by a large mango tree laden with vibrant, soft blossoms. Continuing on, after a picturesque curve, I arrived at I-Resort. After cycling a little further, I turned back.

One afternoon, I cycled around behind Binh Cang Church to the Dien Phu wooden bridge. The small village, with its houses full of flowers, and the alleyways bustling with greenery, was captivating. I wheeled my bike across the wooden bridge and looked back across the river to the city. From this quiet, peaceful village with its fields of vegetables, pumpkins, beans, gourds, and melons, I felt a different kind of tranquility, both near and far.

One day I went further along Luong Dinh Cua road, turning onto the road leading to the Vinh Ngoc iron bridge. I cycled across the iron bridge and stood there admiring the railway tunnel, waiting for a train to pass so I could take a picture. Sometimes I waited so long, my legs ached, that I had to turn back. The afternoons here were so quiet I could clearly hear the crunching of my footsteps on the stones.

One afternoon, I cycled back up to Dien An, turning onto the road leading to the Nine Bends Mountain. The mountains, fields, melon and vegetable plots, and trellises of gourds and pumpkins created a soothing and peaceful green landscape. A patch of golden sugarcane stood out against the green fields, the shadow of a coconut tree cast upon the verdant rice paddies, and a conical hat was still worn by someone diligently working in the fields. Two rows of banana blossoms led to a house, their vibrant red hues shimmering in the afternoon sun. Against the backdrop of the setting sun, the golden-pink hues of the setting sun, the sharp edges of the clouds, and the green of the coconut trees against the misty mountain backdrop created a breathtakingly beautiful rural evening scene!

One afternoon far away, I opened my photo album of peaceful afternoons and felt an overwhelming longing for home!

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/nhan-dam-chieu-binh-yen-185250517190911572.htm