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.