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.