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.