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.