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.