The past flows seamlessly into the present, regardless of any dam myself or humanity itself may construct.

I am no longer just a Vietnamese girl brought up with stereotypes and limitations. I have washed myself off like a piece of fabric, hanging in the vast wind, ready to fly to distant lands, to witness magnificent sights, hear the whispers of wisdom, and touch the heritage of civilizations.

Now, as I look back at that picture, I see something deceptively indestructible about his smile. Behind those faint, shadowy circles, something softly glimmers in his dark eyes: perseverance. His smile is the smile of a man who gave everything so his children could have more.

A flower is somewhat insignificant to a passerby, who sees it for only a fraction of its life, but to the gardener, who has tended the plant since a sprout, watched it grow, ensured it could reach the highest corners of its supports, it becomes everything.

Just as language can be intense in its expression, it can also be soft and gentle. As humans, we ride the language(s) we are using. We have our own ship, sailing on the language we use, and like all boatmen, the more water we experience, the less afraid of different waters we become.