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.