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.