Looking at the house I have lived in for many years but has now become empty and deserted, I feel unfamiliar, as if I don’t recognize this space where I once lived. Then I realize that “home” is not just a building, but every object that accompanies life. Moving houses cannot take away everything; in the process of letting go, I must bid farewell to a part of “home.” But even so, I still fantasize about turning the home into a stuffed doll, packing it up and taking it away in a bag.