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.