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.