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.