Emerald Fields

Emerald fields

While the temperatures are raising, while the humidity is getting heavily stifle the idea of taking a ride with a Vietnamese unstable scooter is the best you can get.

The power of one-and-half donkey under my legs moves the world to me while zigzagging on the congested road of Hué. Cars, ordinary people, kids, dogs and myriad of scooters pop up on my way in a variety of spicy colors.

Freely happy I enjoy the view changing quickly slightly altered beyond the sunglasses.

Trees take the place of street lights, emerald rice fields replace old fashioned buildings, perfuming rivers of human being sailing streets of life turns into quite creeks gently dug between mud and dry lands.

It is here where only farmers and cows are fighting the heat that the crackle engine stop. The storm is knocking the hills blowing his fresh breath down the fertile valley relieving the curved workers.

I sit on the edge of the canal, take away the helmet, close my eyes to completely feel the wind. The smell going up the nostril in a mixture of humid marsh and acrid ozone thrills my cells. The sound of thunders is a deep chorus behind the whispering melody sang by shaken bushes and blades of grass.

Peacefully I stand under the fiery sun absorbing all these energies feeding my soul.

And I feel completely free.

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