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.