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.