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.