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.