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.