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.