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.