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tured　her　mother　with　his　infidelities　just　as　Tomas　galled　her　with　his。　The　cause　of　her　mother's　malice　was　that　she　had　suffered　so。
Tereza　told　Tomas　that　her　mother　was　ill　and　that　she　would　be　taking　a　week　off　to　go　and　see　her。　Her　voice　was　full　of　spite。
Sensing　that　the　real　reason　calling　her　back　to　her　mother　was　vertigo；　Tomas　opposed　the　trip。　He　rang　up　the　hospital　in　the　small　town。　Meticulous　records　of　the　incidence　of　cancer　were　kept　throughout　the　country；　so　he　had　no　trouble　finding　out　that　Tereza's　mother　had　never　been　suspected　of　having　the　disease　nor　had　she　even　seen　a　doctor　for　over　a　year。
Tereza　obeyed　Tomas　and　did　not　go　to　visit　her　mother。　Several　hours　after　the　decision　she　fell　in　the　street　and　injured　her　knee。　She　began　to　teeter　as　she　walked；　fell　almost　daily；　bumped　into　things　or；　at　the　very　least；　dropped　objects。
She　was　in　the　grip　of　an　insuperable　longing　to　fall。　She　lived　in　a　constant　state　of　vertigo。
Pick　me　up；　is　the　message　of　a　person　who　keeps　falling。　Tomas　kept　picking　her　up；　patiently。

19
I　want　to　make　love　to　you　in　my　studio。　It　will　be　like　a　stage　surrounded　by　people。　The　audience　won't　be　allowed　up　close；　but　they　won't　be　able　to　take　their　eyes　off　us。。。。　
As　time　passed；　the　image　lost　some　of　its　original　cruelty　and　began　to　excite　Tereza。　She　would　whisper　the　details　to　him　while　they　made　love。
Then　it　occurred　to　her　that　there　might　be　a　way　to　avoid　the　condemnation　she　saw　in　Tomas's　infidelities：　all　he　had　to　do　was　take　her　along；　take　her　with　him　when　he　went　to　see　his　mistresses！　Maybe　then　her　body　would　again　become　the　first　and　only　among　all　others。　Her　body　would　become　his　second；　his　assistant；　his　alter　ego。
I'll　undress　them　for　you；　give　them　a　bath；　bring　them　in　to　you　。。。　she　would　whisper　to　him　as　they　pressed　together。　She　yearned　for　the　two　of　them　to　merge　into　a　hermaphrodite。　Then　the　other　women's　bodies　would　be　their　playthings。
20
Oh；　to　be　the　alter　ego　of　his　polygamous　life！　Tomas　refused　to　understand；　but　she　could　not　get　it　out　of　her　head；　and　tried　to　cultivate　her　friendship　with　Sabina。　Tereza　began　by　offering　to　do　a　series　of　photographs　of　Sabina。
Sabina　invited　Tereza　to　her　studio；　and　at　last　she　saw　the　spacious　room　and　its　centerpiece：　the　large；　square；　platform…like　bed。
I　feel　awful　that　you've　never　been　here　before；　said　Sabina；　as　she　showed　her　the　pictures　leaning　against　the　wall。　She　even　pulled　out　an　old　canvas；　of　a　steelworks　under　construction；　which　she　had　done　during　her　school　days；　a　period　when　the　strictest　realism　had　been　required　of　all　students　（art　that　was　not　realistic　was　said　to　sap　the　foundations　of　socialism）。　In　the　spirit　of　the　wager　of　the　times；　she　had　tried　to　be　stricter　than　her　teachers　and　had　painted　in　a　style　concealing　the　brush　strokes　and　closely　resembling　color　photography。
Here　is　a　painting　I　happened　to　drip　red　paint　on。　At　first　I　was　terribly　upset；　but　then　I　started　enjoying　it。　The　trickle　looked　like　a　crack；　it　turned　the　building　site　into　a　battered　old　backdrop；　a　backdrop　with　a　building　site　painted　on　it。　I　began　playing　with　the　crack；　filling　it　out；　wondering　what　might　be　visible　behind　it。　And　that's　how　I　began　my　first　cycle　of　paintings。　I　called　it　Behind　the　Scenes。　Of　course；　I　couldn't　show　them　to　anybody。　I'd　have　been　kicked　out　of　the　Academy。　On　the　surface；　there　was　always　an　impeccably　realistic　world；　but　underneath；　behind　the　backdrop's　cracked　canvas；　lurked　something　different；　something　mysterious　or　abstract。　
After　pausing　for　a　moment；　she　added；　On　the　surface；　an　intelligible　lie；　underneath；　the　unintelligible　truth。　
Tereza　listened　to　her　with　the　remarkable　concentration　that　few　professors　ever　see　on　the　face　of　a　student　and　began　to　perceive　that　all　Sabina's　paintings；　past　and　present；　did　indeed　treat　the　same　idea；　that　they　all　featured　the　confluence　of　two　themes；　two　worlds；　that　they　were　all　double　exposures；　so　to　speak。　A　landscape　showing　an　old…fashioned　table　lamp　shining　through　it。　An　idyllic　still　life　of　apples；　nuts；　and　a　tiny；　candle…lit　Christmas　tree　showing　a　hand　ripping　through　the　canvas。
She　felt　a　rush　of　admiration　for　Sabina；　and　because　Sabina　treated　her　as　a　friend　it　was　an　admiration　free　of　fear　and　suspicion　and　quickly　turned　into　friendship。
She　nearly　forgot　she　had　come　to　take　photographs。　Sabina　had　to　remind　her。　Tereza　finally　looked　away　from　the　paintings　only　to　see　the　bed　set　in　the　middle　of　the　room　like　a　platform。
21
Next　to　the　bed　stood　a　small　table；　and　on　the　table　the　model　of　a　human　head；　the　kind　hairdressers　put　wigs　on。　Sabina's　wig　stand　sported　a　bowler　hat　rather　than　a　wig。　It　used　to　belong　to　my　grandfather；　she　said　with　a　smile。
It　was　the　kind　of　hat—black；　hard；　round—that　Tereza　had　seen　only　on　the　screen；　the　kind　of　hat　Chaplin　wore。　She　smiled　back；　picked　it　up；　and　after　studying　it　for　a　time；　said；　Would　you　like　me　to　take　your　picture　in　it？　
Sabina　laughed　for　a　long　time　at　the　idea。　Tereza　put　down　the　bowler　hat；　picked　up　her　camera；　and　started　taking　pictures。
When　she　had　been　at　it　for　almost　an　hour；　she　suddenly　said；　What　would　you　say　to　some　nude　shots？　
Nude　shots？　Sabina　laughed。
Yes；　said　Tereza；　repeating　her　proposal　more　boldly；　nude　shots。　
That　calls　for　a　drink；　said　Sabina；　and　opened　a　bottle　of　wine。
Tereza　felt　her　body　going　weak；　she　was　suddenly　tongue…tied。　Sabina；　meanwhile；　strode　back　and　forth；　wine　in　hand；　going　on　about　her　grandfather；　who'd　been　the　mayor　of　a　small　town；　Sabina　had　never　known　him；　all　he'd　left　behind　was　this　bowler　hat　and　a　picture　showing　a　raised　platform　with　several　small…town　dignitaries　on　it；　one　of　them　was　Grandfather；　it　wasn't　at　all　clear　what　they　were　doing　up　there　on　the　platform；　maybe　they　were　officiating　at　some　ceremony；　unveiling　a　monument　to　a　fellow　dignitary　who　had　also　once　worn　a　bowler　hat　at　public　ceremonies。
Sabina　went　on　and　on　about　the　bowler　hat　and　her　grandfather　until；　emptying　her　third　glass；　she　said　I'll　be　right　back　and　disappeared　into　the　bathroom。
She　came　out　in　her　bathrobe。　Tereza　picked　up　her　camera　and　put　it　to　her　eye。　Sabina　threw　open　the　robe。
22
The　camera　served　Tereza　as　both　a　mechanical　eye　through　which　to　observe　Tomas's　mistress　and　a　veil　by　which　to　conceal　her　face　from　her。
It　took　Sabina　some　time　before　she　could　bring　herself　to　slip　out　of　the　robe　entirely。　The　situation　she　found　herself　in　was　proving　a　bit　more　difficult　than　she　had　expected。　After　several　minutes　of　posing；　she　went　up　to　Tereza　and　said；　Now　it's　my　turn　to　take　your　picture。　Strip！　
Sabina　had　heard　the　command　Strip！　so　many　times　from　Tomas　that　it　was　engraved　in　her　memory。　Thus；　Tomas's　mistress　had　just　given　Tomas's　command　to　Tomas's　wife。　The　two　women　were　joined　by　the　same　magic　word。　That　was　Tomas's　way　of　unexpectedly　turning　an　innocent　conversation　with　a　woman　into　an　erotic　situation。　Instead　of　stroking；　flattering；　pleading；　he　would　issue　a　command；　issue　it　abruptly；　unexpectedly；　softly　yet　firmly　and　authoritatively；　and　at　a　distance：　at　such　moments　he　never　touched　the　woman　he　was　addressing。　He　often　used　it　on　Tereza　as　well；　and　even　though　he　said　it　softly；　even　though　he　whispered　it；　it　was　a　command；　and　obeying　never　failed　to　arouse　her。　Hearing　the　word　now　made　her　desire　to　obey　even　stronger；　because　doing　a　stranger's　bidding　is　a　special　madness；　a　madness　all　the　more　heady　in　this　case　because　the　command　came　not　from　a　man　but　from　a　woman。
Sabina　took　the　camera　from　her；　and　Tereza　took　off　her　clothes。　There　she　stood　before　Sabina　naked　and　disarmed。　Literally　disarmed：　deprived　of　the　apparatus　she　had　been　using　to　cover　her　face　and　aim　at　Sabina　like　a　weapon。　She　was　completely　at　the　mercy　of　Tomas's　mistress。　This　beautiful　submission　intoxicated　Tereza。　She　wished　that　the　moments　she　stood　naked　opposite　Sabina　would　never　end。
I　think　that　Sabina；　too；　felt　the　strange　enchantment　of　the　situation：　her　lover's　wife　standing　oddly　compliant　and　timorous　before　her。　But　after　clicking　the　shutter　two　or　three　times；　almost　frightened　by　the　enchantment　and　eager　to　dispel　it；　she　burst　into　loud　laughter。
Tereza　followed　suit；　and　the　two　of　them　got　dressed。

23
All　previous　crimes　of　the　Russian　empire　had　been　committed　under　the　cover　of　a　discreet　shadow。　The　deportation　of　a　million　Lithuanians；　the　murder　of　hundreds　of　thousands　of　Poles；　the　liquidation　of　the　Crimean　Tatars　remain　in　our　memory；　but　no　photographic　documentation　exists；　sooner　or　later　they　will　therefore　be　proclaimed　as　fabrications。　Not　so　the　1968　invasion　of　Czechoslovakia；　of　which　both　stills　and　motion　pictures　are　stored　in　archives　throughout　the　world。
Czech　photographers　and　cameramen　were　acutely　aware　that　they　were　the　ones　who　could　best　do　the　only　thing　left　to　do：　preserve　the　face　of　violence　for　the　distant　future。　Seven　days　in　a　row；　Tereza　roamed　the　streets；　photographing　Russian　soldiers　and　officers　in　compromising　situations。　The　Russians　did　not　know　what　to　do。　They　had　been　car