While living in the town of Toride, the artist was shocked to find out that it was known as “the city of bicycles.” Because no one in the town rides bicycles. Apparently, when its cycle racing track was built, it was hyped as a city of bicycles. Now in Toride, mountains of bicycles lie abandoned only waiting to be destroyed. But through the artist’s work, the bicycles become reborn. Each of them has a story to tell. Where was it bought, how was it used, where did it go? By assembling fragments of the original owner’s memory, is it possible to breathe new life into these bicycles, for which time and history stand still?