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.