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.