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.