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.