WINDOWS       N-Y       1967
I was ready to leave my hotel.


I had red the last pages of my western. The true story of what remains of an indian tribe that decides to go away from the reserve where it is penned ; and tha.t will drew on it's tracks during long months , several military contin­gents that will , endly , slaughter the whole tribe.
My lugage is ready.
I just wait a few minutes before going down and take a cab. I think of Edith.
My dreams are disturbed by the noise of a fork on the edge of a sink.
I look from the guillotine-window. I am at the. 17 th floor. A very small courtyard , a few trees , down there.Around the glass-pan­nelled façades of offices , blind , closed.(tinted glass.. air con­ditionned).
The noise comes back.
Finaly , through the trees-foliage of the small courtyard , I noticed a move in the darkness of an half-opened door.
It is a young woman washing-up the disches , on the nude.
Sharp émotion. Quickly I unpack my téléobjectif and take a sery of snap-shots , the eye glued to the camera , my breath making small condensed water drops on the cold metal.
Shall I leave New-york or shall I stay to study a little more this young lady.
Robert lights the barbecue in the garden. He comes back and gives the young lady some caresses.
I have got to take my charter.
I will have to wait more than 8 hours at the Kennedy-aeroport for this bloody charter.
The nude young lady is most certainly making love
N-Y summer 1967                                                                         ©    Didier BAY