Residue

 In my part of town, there’s a simple practice we all do when we discover something lost. We hang it up on the nearest railing, fence, or lamppost, in the hope that the person who dropped it might find it again. It means you are sometimes greeted by the sad sight of a single glove, or a bicycle key twined to a wrought-iron barrier. It’s usually assuaged a few days later when it disappears again. Assumedly restored to its rightful owner. 

 That is why this forest clearing has my heart racing. The sheer variety in the array of children’s toys and clothes. Hanging from so many tree trunks. So many branches.

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