The Bus Report
Someone has thrown old couch to the curb. A gaggle of tramps (I can't remember if tramps travel in gaggles or pods) are lounging comfortable upon the forgotten furniture watch the traffic like it was television.
You always see clothes strewned about this city. Personally, I would even go barefoot in this town lest I catch something nasty. So, the idea that people run around here bareassed is a complete suprise. An old man is carefully picking up each item of clothing and placing them upon the iron spikes of a fence. They look like impaled cotton blend turks.
School must be out. There is a rubbish bin on fire. The children dance around the blaze singing and abusing the fireman.