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.