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.