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.