Tennessee Williams was our houseguest. Unbelievable! Tennessee Williams puttering around my home; Tennessee Williams getting into deliciously bitchy arguments during dinner with John Schlesinger and Christopher Isherwood over who among the three of them would be the best lover to Mae West; Tennessee Williams leaving naughty bits and funny notations around the house for us to discover after he left; Tennessee Williams jogging on the beach by day, secretly drinking in his room at night, doing re-writes on The Red Devil Battery Sign. I couldn’t believe it. I photographed him whenever I could, but this shot was taken as he was leaving. I stood by the front door lurking like a paparazzo, and he loved finding me there. His departure limo—true to the magic of his visit—looked like a New Orleans whorehouse.