Depiction：
Standing in the rain, listening to the sound of water under an umbrella, I often feel as though
I’ve stepped into a small, temporary house.
And when two people share a single umbrella, it feels like sharing a miniature roof in the middle of the rain.
Perhaps it’s because the umbrella inherently carries a structure of protection,
that the desire to shield someone, even briefly, emerges so naturally.
In this way, the umbrella becomes more than just a tool against the rain—it becomes a device that holds emotion and closeness.
In Korea, umbrellas often go missing or get taken by others, but I like to think of it differently:
“Maybe I just lent my little roof to someone for a moment.”
Even the act of losing it then becomes part of a story.
