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.