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.