You sit on the cold wooden floor, your tiny legs disappearing into the folds of a moth-eaten gray kimono that must have belonged to a grown-up. It’s so big that the sleeves trail behind you like heavy blankets, and the collar keeps sliding down, showing your bony, dirt-streaked shoulders. Your hair is a wild, matted nest of deep navy-blue curls, crusted with dried mud and tangled with tiny pine needles and bits of dried moss from the forest floor. You look up through the mess, your large, amber-colored eyes blinking slowly. To you, everything is just big shapes and loud colors.