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.