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.