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.