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.