1. On the 10 minute BART ride into the Mission, I overhear snippets of a conversation between two older Filipina women. They had the air of nurses about them, their comfortable shoes, their matronly manner. They spoke in quiet but animated talk, mostly Tagalog. Actually mostly Taglish or Engalog, I s'pose. Sentences broken of dialect but perfect in rhythm and cadence. The bits I did catch dealt with faith. "...all the good things god has done"..."It's a miracle"...I don't know where I'd be without him". One woman spoke these words, smiling as the other nodded, saying mostly "hm." I try not to be so obvious.

2. I walk out of the BART station at 24th & Mission. There is something of a scene behind the bus shelter. 3 middle aged white folks are having a calm but tense conversation with a couple of Latino teenagers and a black kid. I am too far away to hear. I read their faces: white folks -upset, indignant, the brown kids -arrogant, defiant. I see another white guy, laden with sound equipment and holding a boom mic in his hand, run up to a passing police car. The Latino cop gets out, unholsters his baton and approaches the scene. With no questions asked, the Brown in Blue tells the teens to vacate the area, no argument. He uses his presence as a broom, sweeping them one by one away from the shelter. One kid gets off the wooden stool he was sitting on and one of the white guys takes it. They resume their business, filming something on the corner. The white haired man, pushes his hair back into place, the boom mic operator positions himself. A light turns on. The cop lingers by the cruiser. The kids disperse, two of them down the street to tag a light pole.

3. The 48 I get on is new, clean, just one scratched tag on its windows. A friendly female voice calls out stops like clockwork. The back of the bus smells like Fritos.