72 days: Ripples of Stillness

The slow boat ride on the Mekong was everything I had hoped for and more. The quiet flow of the river seemed to reflect my own sense of quiet reflection today. As the boat glided along, I watched the landscapes change from dense greenery to small villages tucked along the banks. The distant mountains, softened by a light mist, made the whole scene feel like a painting.

I met a local boatman named Sanya, whose face told stories of many years spent on the water. He spoke of how the river sustains the people here-fishing, transportation, even as a source of spiritual connection. His hands, weathered from years of rowing, were as much a part of the landscape as the river itself. We didn't talk much, but his presence was grounding.

I spent the rest of the trip sketching small scenes: a fisherman casting his net, the reflection of clouds on the water, and a simple Laotian house near the river's edge. The day felt unhurried, even timeless. As the boat returned to shore, I felt lighter, as if the river had carried away some of my worries.