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.