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.