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.