The bus paused for the lights at the large intersection next to the wall where, every day, men congregate in garrulous groups waiting for work. Sometimes I pass when a van draws up, rapid negotiations are transacted and one or more clamber into the back and the van drives off.
Mostly the men stand with their fists pushed hard in their pockets but today I noticed one who was systematically burning the hairs on the back of his hands with his cigarette, between drags. Even from the height of the top of the bus I could see the skin was covered with shiny white sequins of old burn scars.
I’d scoffed most of a packet of biscuits (it’s a long journey) before realising that while not illegal it might have been inconsiderate.
The light on the scar on his knee – that was what I was interested in. But unfortunately the camera wasn’t.
frizzyLogic 
Interesting photos, I like the second one. In the last photo, do I see scars on the man’s head? Great to have you back, Lady P.
Bus pictures … isn’t this back to where it all began with that nifty little camera? I especially like the second one.
On the way back into town this afternoon, from a ten-hour trip from Montana (I feel ill with exhaustion but am grounding myself with blogs from real people, such as yourself)–anyway, on the way back home, we passed one of my favorite city bus stops, outside a local community college, and I thought, I must photograph this. Then I see this post, which gives me heart. I hope to get to it soon.
I so enjoy your blog presence, thanks for posting!