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.