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.