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.