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.