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.