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.