On the express bus downtown, I see Tilda Swinton’s Asian doppelganger. She has the same high cheekbones and grave, alarmed gaze. Even the haircut, from what I can recall of my most recent memory of Tilda Swinton, is the same.
The Asian clone was staring intently at something. I followed her gaze and she was staring at an ad for UCSF. When I peddled back on her gaze I saw that it wasn’t the ad at all that she must have been looking at; her mind was entirely elsewhere.
What if Tilda Swinton played baseball — not softball, but baseball? We should let girls play. They’re good.