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.