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.