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.