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.