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.