Anna wonders what it feels like to live in one place—to have a room that waits for you, a bicycle that is truly your own. Immigrants rarely taste the sweetness of rooting or belonging; their feet are always moving, their hearts always half-packed. In the store for the poor, others’ eyes remind Anna that she is less than those who can claim the land beneath their feet. Yet in her imagination, she finds refuge—turning hardship into wonder, and displacement into a quiet kind of magic.