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.