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.