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.