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.