I was walking up 5th, approaching Mission. A man was sitting on the ground in the drizzle, asking for change. I felt in my pockets and found none. As I passed him, I looked to my right and saw this vehicle:I doubled back and, after extracting a dollar from my wallet, talked to him about the weather while I propped the camera on the cast-iron fence behind him. Later, on the long march back from Chinatown, I noticed that he had moved to the other side of the street, in front of the west entrance to the San Francisco Center. "I know you," he called out, smiling. "You're on your way home."