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.