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.