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.