Bus Report #196

Yesterday on my way to work I saw five sofas on the sidewalk.
Some were in pieces, the cushions scattered around.
Some were upended and leaning against buildings.
One had a homeless man sleeping on it.

This morning there were two women on my bus who I could have sworn were actually the same person. Not twins, but literally the same person. Same scarf, same hair pulled in to a severe bun, same shapeless jacket, same gold-rimmed glasses. One sat two rows ahead of me and I did a double take when the second woman squeezed her way onto the bus.

I have run in to the Russian business man four times around the neighborhood. Last weekend I saw him near the bookstore, and not an hour later he was browsing through Haig's when I was on my way out.

I saw Mr. Polite several times, too. Once in the market and once walking down the street. He always nods, politely, and raises his hand in a half-wave, half-salute.

There is a new restaurant across the street from the Fillmore. When they first put in the light-up sign, I could not, COULD NOT read what it said at all. It was weird: like when you see something written in a foreign language and you get a headache trying to guess what it says. Except this was in English.
Finally they put up an awning that I could read clearly. The restaurant is called Juyuso.