we’re going to bake a pie or something but first we need to find the required tools: levels, T-squares, wrenches. we have replaced the online stock images for “refugee” with the face of a white man. if everyone who sees stories of refugees sees a white man as the victim, maybe they’ll do something to help. we’re going to bake something special for the man whose face we used. we meet in dark wet streets, under neon lights, whispering and laughing with nervous energy. our summer dresses and bright faces give away nothing of our plans. this group of friends follows me back to my place. i’ve moved next door. the view isn’t as good. instead of the endless water and waves i’m used to, i see a cityscape of a new-to-me place. a deep blue river snakes its way between me and this foggy city. at least there’s water. if i can see water, i can make it a home. because i just moved, i’m a little unorganized and i have to dig through boxes and push away coats in my closet to find the sawdust covered tools for baking.