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.