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.