I think about birds. Flying from cold to warm. Butterflies traveling oceans to sleep. I think about people escaping horror to find peace. Because it doesn’t matter if you put an i in front of this word. This is still one world. A person migrates and immigrates simultaneously. We just use one word for animals and the other for people. Because people put up imaginary lines separating one piece of land from the other. We give them colors on a map. But America isn’t blue, and Africa isn’t green. But the blood inside you is the same color as is in me.