statuette                
                                          
  
                                 
                                          
 forests around my  childhood home. thick 
 pine  arcades  that   were  planted  and 
       forgotten. wild boars roaming      
 underneath,  sniffing  at the ground. it 
 is dark  and  moist,  the canopy  having 
 already   soaked   up   all   the   sun. 
                                          
 there's  a river  passing by, from  east 
 to west, getting broader and deeper  and 
 slower  as  it goes. equisetum grow just 
 where  the  pine  hands   start  to  let 
 through light,  horsemint  on  the rocky 
                river bed.                
                                          
                                         
                                          
 the riverbanks reek  of  magic.  tonight 
 they had  been a swampworld with  sylvan 
 water, stone  rings  and floating  moss. 
 you could've found me  wallowing  around 
 on  the  southern  shores  until  i  got 
                  bitten.                 
                                          
 but  now  i'm  further  back,  on  solid 
 ground, in shoulder-high grass, with  an 
 orange  tin  radio  and   a  translucent 
      umbrella which i'm sitting on.      
                                          
                                         
                                          
 somethings  moving  in  the  grass. it's 
 invisible  to my eyes  but  i  can  feel 
 through the ground just how large it is. 
                                          
 the soil  is muddy. i  slip when  trying 
 to   get  up,   still  looking  at   the 
 direction of  sound  rather  than at  my 
 hands, who are  busy putting  things  in 
                my pockets.               
                                          
 then  i   run  east  toward   my   home. 
                                          
                                         
                                          
 i am not followed, and  slow down in the 
 clearing  where  you  at first  can spot 
 the  house,  not  yet   really  in   the 
 backyard. from my pockets i  retrieve my 
 radio  (now  dented)  but  also  a small 
 clay figure i've never  seen  before. it 
 must have  been laying in the  wet dirt, 
 and  i  must've  picked it  up  with  my 
             other belongings.            
                                          
 it's a statuette of a  girl laying naked 
 on   her   stomach,  feet  in  the  air, 
   roughly seven centimeters long. it's   
 freshly  made, not yet completely dried. 
                                          
 my mom  is here now. i ask  her for some 
 particle  board  for it  to dry  on, but 
 she  is   worried   and   wants  me   to 
              throw it away.