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.