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.