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.