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.