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.