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.