You can touch me

Catching sight of one of the Narnia posters out of the corner of my eye, I am suddenly reminded of the time I met Tilda Swinton. Well not exactly met, was once in the same room as would be more accurate. It was second year of college I think, the time of the very tall and taciturn boyfriend with the very short and incredibly bouncy friend. The bouncy one was a major theatre geek and used to keep inviting us to experimental performances most of which I don't remember but there was this one time. In a basement in Kings and I think it was something by Brecht but the memorable part was that halfway through the performance this woman in the audience (there were about 15 of us) started talking to the lead actor, who was also the director, about what the true meaning of the play and how they were failing to convey it. But instead of trying to have her thrown out everyone in the cast and a good half of the audience just stopped acting/watching and joined in the conversation. And somehow it seemed entirely natural that she and she alone should be the focal point of the room.

It brings to mind another memory, this time of one summer in Germany. I'd run out of places to stay and ended up calling a vet student who'd seen practice with Dad earlier in the year. One of her hobbies was rehabilitating German Shepherd dogs and she had two that weekend, a very ancient ex-police dog with one eye and a younger one, which was half Irish Wolfhound and the size of a small horse. And I remember taking them out for a walk and watching the giant dog bowl along the path as if he'd never in his life had to stop for anyone or anything else. Except Tilda Swinton wasn't at all like a dog. More like a cat. Or a dragon. But a more than human dragon.