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.