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.