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.