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.