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.