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.