After seven years, she is still the perfect choice. Now, even more alluring. It’s four-fifty on a Thursday afternoon, in a dimly lit bar at a trendy Hotel known as the Nomad in downtown Manhattan. Scarlett Johansson is here, and surprisingly, she’s eager to write. I hand her a small hotel notepad, about four-by-six inches, which she quickly snatches with her dainty, ring-free fingers. She eagerly takes my pen, ready to start writing.
“What should I put down on paper?” she asks. She’s ready to jot down whatever I say, she assures me. I’m at a loss. “Don’t you have a favorite quote or passage?” I suggest. “Maybe a bit of Shakespeare, perhaps? ‘Oh, for a muse of fire,’ or something along those lines?”
She nibbles on her cheek when lost in thought, staring at the vast array of sliced veggies in front of her. “Crudités,” I murmur, a term that would have been unfamiliar a decade ago. As the platter is set down, she exclaims, “Wow, that’s a lot of vegetables!”
The sound of her voice cuts through the chatter in the air, standing out just like her lips, cheekbones, and legs. Being around her, you can’t help but be drawn in by the distinct quality of her voice. The bar is buzzing with conversation during the cocktail hour.
“I really want to write a parable,” she mentioned. “Or even just come up with an adage. You know, one of those sayings that seems confusing at first but then suddenly makes sense. It always throws me off initially, but after some thinking, I eventually get it. It’s like a little puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together at first glance.”
