80 days: Hands of Time

Today was slow and calming. I spent the afternoon in a small teahouse tucked away in one of Hanoi's quiet streets. The rain outside was gentle, creating a soft rhythm on the windows. Inside, I enjoyed the warmth and earthy aroma of fresh green tea. It felt like time had slowed down.

The tea master, an elderly woman named Thanh, shared stories about how each tea leaf is carefully selected. She demonstrated the traditional method of brewing, her hands steady and deliberate. We talked about simple things-the changing seasons, the sound of rain. Thanh's calm presence made me feel at ease, as if the day itself had paused to allow us this quiet moment.

As the rain continued outside, I found myself sketching her hands - aged, yet graceful - as she prepared the tea. There's something deeply poetic about how such a simple act can carry so much meaning. It was a peaceful day, one that made me appreciate the quieter moments of travel.

I returned to my room, my mind still wandering through the streets of Hanoi, soothed by the rhythm of the rain and the warmth of the tea.