We move by means of our mud bumps.
We bubble as do the dead but more slowly.
The products of excruciating purgeswe are squeezed out thin hard and dry.
If we exude a stench it is petrified sainthood.
Our feet are large crude fused togethersolid like anvils.
Ugly as truth is uglywe are meant to stand upright a long timeand shudder without motionunder the scintillating pins of lightthat dart between our bodiesof pimpled mud and your eyes.
Alberto Giacometti,
City Square (1948)Bronze, approximately 8.5 x 25 x 17 inches.
The Museum of Modern Art,
New York City.
