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.