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.