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.