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.