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.