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.