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.