I stood over a young woman on the train last night. She had a narrow face and it looked like she was sucking in her cheeks. An open book rested on top of a big leather bag that was on her lap (the subject of what women put in their bags, and how often they change their bags merits its own discussion). Soon, I sat in a seat across from her. She was wearing black boots, and a long skirt and her hips were wide though I couldn’t make out her figure from the way she was sitting. I tried to figure out how a girl with a big body could have such a slender face.
As the train pulled into the 125th station, she closed her book and looked up. I saw that she was reading Diane Keaton’s new memoir. That was when I noticed that her blazer and the big, decorated scarf that was wrapped around her neck. You know how some people look like their dogs? She looked like her book, a real Annie Hall. As I wished that I could take a picture of her, she looked at me. I raised my eyebrow and she titled her head, smiled, and walked off the train.
[Poster by Mike Oncley]