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.