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.