not long ago, I saw a picture of a woman and a cat. the woman was beautifully riped, contained within herself, peacefully glowing, as the poet would have put it, "like a fruit full of sweetness and dark". she was caressing the cat, and the cat's ecstasy was such that the air stood still. it was a languid afternoon making all angles soft, and the light suffused with a voluptuous tremble. you could almost wonder which was which. the woman the cat the cat the woman. I took my camera, and started to take pictures of the cat and the woman in front of me. but my woman was a girl. she was tall and slender, moved quickly through her own dreams, and her shapes were that of a young warrior. the camera couldn't capture her swift pulsating blood. then the cat - so young also - went once around the flower vase, and when she turned to look at me, I shuddered.