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.