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.