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.