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.