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.