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.