After my father was diagnosed with an incurable illness some years ago, I took photographs of him regularly. I took his bent back, dusty, dimly lit room and portraits of him and me. One day, my father finally died, and the act of photographing him came to an abrupt end. As I looked at my father’s last photographs, I remembered an old album of pictures I had seen one day. It was a picture of him holding me, a newborn. Since I became an adult, I have had little in common with my father. We couldn’t get on together. But our eyes in the photograph are very similar. What kind of person was my father? Through sorting my father’s belongings, I found some haiku. It was his hobby for several years before his death. These haiku were about his life and feelings after he became disabled. I felt as if it preserves my father’s voice and words in them. Even now that my father has passed away, perhaps I can still get to know him through the haiku and photographs he left behind. Now, I have all the pieces from the beginning to the end of our time together. It’s time to get to know my father through the things he left behind.