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.