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.