A clearly transparent glass and a row of casuarinas whispering in sea winds separated my room and the sea.
I could see and feel the sea when I either opened my eyes or closed them. The blue sea with waves rolling on the carpet of sunlight. Every day, both dusk and dawn came to see me with their glorious cloaks on; and they returned with even more glorious ones the day after.
Full moon on the 14th and then, on the 15th. The moon slowly came, not in a hurry like the sun. Waves of silvery moonlight spreading on waves attracted my eyes.
The moon, then, hanging in the middle of space. The nice blue moon. The moon was not dazzling. I could look at it for a long time- longer than the time Cuoi looked at his banyan tree leaving the earth to the moon in astonishment. He, with his tree, had left the earth and made friend with Chang’e up there. And in that cold planet, Petit Prince has now grown up into a man- a handsome and la-di-dah man. He came to her with the scarlet rose in his hand. The beauty was surprised and embarrassed. Cuoi stepped backward and sat under the banyan tree, missing his wife being left behind on earth.
But both the sun and the moon were not parts of the sea. Only their lights made parts of the sea. Their lights made the sea either glorious or mysterious.
The magic was breathtaking. The magic is a miracle that brings us wings of imaginary and creativity.
Cuoi, Chang’e and Petit Prince had been going through time and space with the wings and stayed somewhere in our memory.
The sea is nourishing the men, both in terms of spiritual and material. But it was a resource that is torn part with men’s aggressive plans and actions.
I was lucky to stay for days at an untamed beach. Unfenced beach where both tourists and native people could do their swimming and fishing; where their boats could freely travel.
The sea was full in the period of full moon. For several mornings in a row, I met two men who were netting or angling fish.
The guy netting fish was around 40- who was as handsome as a male god with his face, body and muscless soaking wet and sunlight of dawn glistering on them. Hands pulling the net; his shoulder carrying a bag of fish. His leisurely manner through his net pulling motions made me noticed and I swam towards him for a talk. He had been here around 4.00 to release the net. After two hours, he came down to the sea pulling the net. Then after a half of hour more, he came home with over a kilo of fish in his bag, then, he would leave for work. “I am a sales marketing agent, I work all day, just to have time with the sea in mornings,” he said.
The other man angling fish was a kilometer away from me, sitting. He looked like catching the sun with his rod in the sunlight passing by.
Before getting into the water for a swim, I went along the beach towards the man. Light pouring. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat. It took me a while to see his face clearly: a face of a man who had experienced all ups and downs, aging. “Why don’t you use net like that guy?” I pointed at the “sales” agent. He politely replied:” I love angling. It is a passion!” “You are catching fish or catching... time?” “Maybe, both”. “Have you ever returned home empty hands?” “No, a lot of fish”, “Are you in the fishing village here?” “No, I came here from Phan Thiet. I was here from the very early morning and went angling until 8”. He, then showed be the fish full of fresh scads.
When doing “star fish float” and watching white clouds on the blue sky, I realized the sea has its way to nourish our souls with its boundless generosity. It also make us to be more matured, more “human” in its raging furies.
And while the waves caressing my body, I also realized in the cool blue water, there were both eternal sincerity and eternal deceitfulness of the ocean. Being torrential, wild and overwhelming. Able to devour all, to destroy all but also able to bear all- life and death and hope.
Every time I left the sandy beach, I normally gave a look back at the sea. It was still there, sometimes roaring, sometimes smooth and calm. I have the feeling the sea is always washing itself with all its strength. Being self-tormented and feeling painful; then cleaning itself and renewing itself with deep desire.
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