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.