Reblogged from HaikuNews
Where do Artists Go When
Giacometti, are you
Running from or walking to?
Within four walls, all fat’s trimmed,
Then you ask “what’s ‘neath the skin?”
Walking, pointing to and fro,
Are you saying there’s still hope?
Tell me where do artists go
When the world is chiseled grim,
When they need to bare their soul
And hope’s worn so very thin?
Image of Giacometti by Henri Cartier-Bresson