She leaned against a whitewashed wall--lips quivering--nostrils dilating--eyes heavy with the gloom of unspent rain clouds--I drew close to her--whispered something and kissed her--a tear rolled down her cheek--and then I captured forever the moment--let me see f.8--1/10 sec. K1 filter--panchromatic film--how brutally mechanical and calculated it sounds--yet how really spontaneous and genuine--for I have so overcome the mechanics of my camera that it functions responsive to my desires--my shutter coordinating with my brain is released in a way—as natural as I might move my arm--I am beginning to approach actual attainment in photography--that in my ego of two or three years ago I thought to have already reached--it will be necessary for me to destroy, to unlearn, and then rebuild upon the mistaken presumptuousness of my past--the moment of our mutual emotion was recorded on the silver—the release of those emotions followed--we passed from the glare of the sun on white walls into Tina’s darkened room--her olive skin and sombre nipples were revealed beneath a black mantilla--I drew the lace aside.