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.