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.