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.