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.