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.