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.