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.