Water and Rock
Water tirelessly etches patterns into stone.
Warm crevices in the rocks offer shelter for shellfish to breed and grow.
Together, stone and shellfish patiently build up the sandy shore.
The rocks, solid yet warm, carry the sharp, salty scent of dried sea spray and the briny tang of the sea when wet. Water leaves its mark upon the stone—sometimes deep, sometimes shallow—following the rhythm of its devoted touch. Water loves stone with an earthly, humble, and enduring affection. Bound by nature, water and stone remain inseparable companions.
There is a small region that contains all: sea, river, hills, and mountains—this place is called Thanh Hóa. The city lies nestled among low limestone hills, encircled by lakes and ponds, with the sea just sixteen kilometres away.
At the age of forty-three, I had the chance to return and truly take in this land. Of course, much has changed—people and nature alike. Even the rocky hills seem to be gradually giving way to human demands. Yet the stones still offer us their sublime beauty, expressed through graceful natural patterns.
I arrived in Sầm Sơn on a weekend afternoon. Walking along the shoreline, I passed rugged rocks at the water’s edge, while in the distance stood isolated outcrops, rising solemnly from the sea. The colour of the stones shifted with the sunlight and shadows—purple, green, brown, red, gold, and mossy green—as if draped in a multicoloured robe woven by nature.
The sea never ceases its labour, sculpting the stones with unique forms each day: here, like neatly stacked slices of bread; there, like a tilted mushroom with flowing, rhythmic edges. Some rocks are pitted, as if carved by droplets of water or the patient crashing of waves over the years.
Higher formations bear vertical markings, like the meticulous strokes of rain painting the water’s descent from mountaintop to earth. Other rocks are rough and knobbly, like toadskin—remnants of great waves that once surged and left behind shapes that only water could “draw”.
I felt complete as I pressed my face against the stone, breathed in the dry salt scent, studied its form, and touched its surface—as if recharged by a fresh, vital energy.
