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.