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.