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.