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.