We had to leave that house eventually, that Orchard; too much uncertainty there, in the countryside by the train tracks by the dump. We feel safer now, in the order of the city. When we first arrived, when we would get lost in the city streets and show up late to meet each other, we would still say by way of explanation, "Oh, I found myself in the Orchard". We don't say that much anymore. But our books are still stacked in grey wooden apple crates.