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.