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.