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.