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.