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.