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.