This is a film about Taiwan "moving house." Over the 40 years since 1986, an entire island's sounds, objects, jobs and landscapes were carried away one by one: the flag and anthem before the movie, snowy TV screens, three channels showing glove puppetry and midnight Little League; pagers, payphones and phone cards; the thick newspapers after the press ban lifted, phone books and passbooks; book rental shops, video stores, record stores, film rolls and dial-up internet; Zhonghua Market, bus conductresses, highway toll collectors, corner grocery stores, military dependents' villages and traditional markets. Their disappearance bought unprecedented convenience, but also flattened the taste of waiting and uncertainty. The camera also records the "good disappearances" of liberalization and democratization: the end of martial law and the press ban, the retirement of the eternal parliament, the streamlining of the provincial government. And the nostalgia that came back: retro buses, vinyl and cassettes, military service returning to one year. But the heaviest loss is the baby's cry that will not return, as low birth rates and a super-aged society darken classrooms and quiet whole neighborhoods. Those details that sound made up are the island's real historical record. Please speak them out loud, because your memory is the only backup.