I saw Björk once in a fish market in Reykjavík. She was buying fish. Observing Björk in her natural habitat does not normalise her. It's like the bit in Mars Attacks where the Martian spy disguises himself as a human woman—both are too otherworldly to quite pull off blending in. Björk was born different. It's not the case that all Icelanders have Inuit features—most of them look Aryan—so kids at school called her China Girl. She embraced her otherness, forging a path with it, never forsaking integrity or independence, never dressing down.