Years later, when a flood swept through my hometown, I wore a waterproof backpack of my own design—one that could transform into an inflatable raft—and dove into the torrent to see if it would hold. My mother called it foolish; I called it proof of possibility. Growing up in Lào Cai, where storms carved the mountains and rivers rewrote the land each season, I learned that creation is born from motion, and motion from courage. Nature and people there have always shared a rhythm—sometimes in harmony, sometimes in conflict, yet always finding balance. That rhythm became my guide, shaping how I see natural disasters: not as agents of ruin, but as living conversations between strength and endurance, between the unyielding power of the earth and the quiet resilience of those who call it home.