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.