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.