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.