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.