Black cat on a sofa curled up comfortable as sleep, but eyes open watching a young woman curled up on the carpet a few feet distant a few feet below. The cat has white paws and a white nose. The girl is naked. The cat's ears are up, listening. The girl's knees are together, her legs pulled up and folded calves to thighs so that the heels of her feet touch the tan line where skin suddenly turns white. The cat looks fat and lazy. The girl is slim, her body curled like an embryo, the vertebrae from the middle of her back to her neck clearly articulated. The cat has long hair. The girl's hair is short. We know the cat is looking at the girl, and I'm guessing she's looking right back at the cat. We can't see the girl's eyes because the photograph is taken from behind her, the angle carefully selected so that the viewer can't see all the places a girl is not supposed to show, just the naked curl of her body on the carpet facing a fat black cat who looks back at her warily. I must have arranged the pose. It's possible I suppose that Jessie decided on her own to curl up on the rug beneath the cat and I lined up the camera and took the shot--but unlikely. No, I must have seen something in the pairing and arranged the image: the animality of the naked human form echoed by the cat on the sofa. Something like that. The resonant energy of the two forms close and at rest. I know I wasn't thinking about VietNam, not in the arranging of this image, I mean at least I don't believe I was, though the picture would have been taken at the height of the war and her bare body so vulnerable and childish posed on a rug in a safe suburban house. A house cat who dreams about slicing up a rabbit or pouncing on a bird or any creature small enough to die under it's claws. Jessie lies there naked looking while behind her I arrange her image in the viewfinder dreaming probably about art and the beauty of the human form.