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.