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.