Home. Yes. That is what I had once called this place, the place I now call Hong Kong. The buildings are all too familiar, that comforting, warm, and humid air settling over me like a blanket. Everything is the same. Yet so different. The streets are full of children, with markets scattered everywhere. Clothing stores and food markets cover every inch of the sidewalk. The motorcycles speed past me, as the honking cars rush in front of me, just barely missing my face. The environment, the liveliness, I was once a part of it. I was once a puzzle piece out of a million, that fit perfectly in the center. I can still see myself on that basketball court, shooting hoops with my friends, as I'm drenched with sweat under the burning hot sun. I remember those days that I snuck away with my friends to go to the fast-food restaurant after school before heading home. And right around the corner, was a construction center that I used to walk past on my way home. But now I'm changed, molded into another piece, a piece that no longer fits in. The settling feeling that I once had is now gone, the feeling that told me, I'm home. I no longer belong, this is no longer my home, I know I now belong elsewhere. But I cannot help but miss this place, this place that I once called home.