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.