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.