"Peter struggled to get coherent responses to his questions, but Warhol was laconic and seemed deliberately enigmatic, rarely saying more than a single word or two. His friends joked, chuckled to themselves, and made their own esoteric comments to amuse each other.
I focused my lens on Warhol, waiting for any change. He sat directly across from me, pale and expressionless. After an hour my arms began to ache, but I waited patiently. It seemed as though his standard deadpan was the only shot I would get, but a comment by one of his friends made him smile for a fleeting moment..."
