Paranoia about Isaeri's friendships with women began to unravel me still further. And when I saw the photograph I had just taken of Isaeri (again, with reluctance, for we had just finished making love, and I was naked and in tears at the camera itself) on the wall of one friend in particular, one who truly hated men, with the insolent phrase -- "I can better serve you, my dear..." written as a sickening title just below it, in this other woman's bed-room (I was there look- for Isaeri's coat on a canopied bed), I screamed. Later, that evening, at our place, Isaeri and I made love. When I say "made love" -- it is in the truest sense of that word. It transcended every point of verbal defiition from the beginning. It ev- en transcended visualization. So that...even though I had devised a means of taking our photograph as we made love (by a "delayed release" on the flash bar and shutter), I didn't use it. It was too intimate a moment. But, as I had done earlier, I was able to stand, walk to the camera set-up, and focus the light and the shutter aperture, and the lens on her. She realized (at least to some extent) what I was doing, so that even in the throes of passion (which I knew her to be -- she could never have lied to me about that), she could pose. I remember having incredible difficulty with focusing the lens, for I was crying uncontrollably at that point. And I realized why I was crying, and she was not. To this very day, this moment is as stark as the moment when she first asked me to photograph her "untouched" and "without thoughts of censure." She had said to me then, regarding her new methods of posing -- "You must cease to think of me as your lover alone. I am your lover. I do not share my body, directly, with anyone else. But, I know my body is beautiful. Why can I not share this image with others?" I had no answer then. I had no answer to the questions that raged at me in that moment during which I set up and took the photo- graph.