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.