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.