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- Джон Фоулз
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He
took
a
lot
more
photos
of
me
this
morning
.
He
really
enjoys
it
.
He
likes
me
to
smile
at
the
camera
,
so
twice
I
pulled
shocking
faces
.
He
was
not
amused
.
Then
I
put
my
hair
up
with
one
hand
and
pretended
I
was
a
model
.
You
ought
to
be
a
model
,
he
said
.
Quite
serious
.
He
didn
’
t
realize
I
was
guying
the
whole
idea
.
I
know
why
he
likes
the
photographing
business
.
He
thinks
it
makes
me
think
he
’
s
artistic
.
And
of
course
he
hasn
’
t
a
clue
.
I
mean
he
gets
me
in
focus
,
and
that
’
s
all
.
No
imagination
.
It
’
s
weird
.
Uncanny
.
But
there
is
a
sort
of
relationship
between
us
.
I
make
fun
of
him
,
I
attack
him
all
the
time
,
but
he
senses
when
I
’
m
"
soft
.
"
When
he
can
dig
back
and
not
make
me
angry
.
So
we
slip
into
teasing
states
that
are
almost
friendly
.
It
’
s
partly
because
I
’
m
so
lonely
,
it
’
s
partly
deliberate
(
I
want
to
make
him
relax
,
both
for
his
own
good
and
so
that
one
day
he
may
make
a
mistake
)
,
so
it
’
s
part
weakness
,
and
part
cunning
,
and
part
charity
.
But
there
’
s
a
mysterious
fourth
part
I
can
’
t
define
.
It
can
’
t
be
friendship
,
I
loathe
him
.
Perhaps
it
’
s
just
knowledge
.
Just
knowing
a
lot
about
him
.
And
knowing
someone
automatically
makes
you
feel
close
to
him
.
Even
when
you
wish
he
was
on
another
planet
.
The
first
days
,
I
couldn
’
t
do
anything
if
he
was
in
the
room
.
I
pretended
to
read
,
but
I
couldn
’
t
concentrate
.
But
now
I
sometimes
forget
he
’
s
here
.
He
sits
by
the
door
and
I
read
in
my
chair
,
and
we
’
re
like
two
people
who
’
ve
been
married
years
.
It
is
not
that
I
have
forgotten
what
other
people
are
like
.
But
other
people
seem
to
have
lost
reality
.
The
only
real
person
in
my
world
is
Caliban
.
It
can
’
t
be
understood
.
It
just
is
.
October
20th
It
’
s
eleven
o
’
clock
in
the
morning
.
