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.