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.