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.