diff --git a/temp/pie/pie.html b/temp/pie/pie.html
index 6845c34..2ef6323 100644
--- a/temp/pie/pie.html
+++ b/temp/pie/pie.html
@@ -8,22 +8,22 @@
     <link rel="stylesheet" href="../css/fonts.css">
     <script src="../js/jquery.js"></script>
     <script src="script.js"></script>
-    <link rel="icon" type="image/x-icon" href="../photos/pie.webp">
+    <link rel="icon" type="image/x-icon" href="../photos//pie.webp">
 
 </head>
 <body>
     <!-- nav -->
     <a href="../index.html" target="_self">
-        <img id="home" src="../photos/home-closed.png" alt="home">
+        <img id="home" src="../photos//home-closed.png" alt="home">
     </a>
     <div id="about">
         <div onclick="openLetter()">
-            <img id="about" src="../photos/closed-crow.png" alt="about">
+            <img id="about" src="../photos//closed-crow.png" alt="about">
         </div>
     </div>
 
     <div id="letterBox" class="letterBox" style="display:none">
-        <div id="closeButton" onClick='closeLetter()'><img src="../photos/close-yellow.png" alt="Close" width="50" height="auto"></div>
+        <div id="closeButton" onClick='closeLetter()'><img src="../photos//close-yellow.png" alt="Close" width="50" height="auto"></div>
         <div id="letterContents"></div>
     </div>
 
@@ -48,16 +48,16 @@
                 I was excited to get my first iPod. I had to download iTunes to listen to music, but the slow internet of my home stopped with every ring of the phone. I was glued to the progress bar for a week, watching it slowly inch forward. I felt so frustrated every time the phone rang for the whole week! When it finally downloaded it was the best feeling in the world.</p>
         </div>
         <div class="content-item">
-            <img src="../photosbattenberg.png" alt="Image 3">
+            <img src="../photos/battenberg.png" alt="Image 3">
             <p>
                 Every birthday, Mom bakes a train-shaped Battenberg cake with pink and yellow checkerboxes. On my 21st birthday we all stayed up to celebrate and got quite drunk. At 3 a.m., my Mom gasped—“Oh no, I forgot the cake!" We ate it then, tipsy and intimate. It felt different, more personal. My mom wasn’t just my mom anymore; she was a friend.</p>
         </div>
         <div class="content-item">
-            <img src="../photosaustria.png" alt="Image 4">
+            <img src="../photos/austria.png" alt="Image 4">
             <p>Once, I rode a long train ride down to Shangai. At each city we stopped, I ate a different piece of cake and wrote about it on my blog—back when blogs were still a thing. It was an incredible cake journey. But now, the train’s path goes through Russia, and that trip is sealed in the past.</p>
         </div>
         <div class="content-item">
-            <img src="../photostumblr.png" alt="Image 5">
+            <img src="../photos/tumblr.png" alt="Image 5">
             <p>When I first got Tumblr, I wrote all my most private thoughts on it. I loved it. One day, a girl from a class above came up to me to say she loved my post about love. My heart sank as I realized everything I posted was public, exposed. Embarrassed, I deleted it all. Now, I wish I hadn’t.
 
             </p>
