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.