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.