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.