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.