There's somthing a little bit odd about buses, at least in the UK. And at least when they're semi-crowded on a rainy day. They bear a concrete reality that seems to arise from their claustrophobic seating, the look-straight-aheadness of the passengers, the greyness of the window panes. It's as if everyone there realises the truth of the bus, like their partaking just adds to the definitiveness constrained within it. The space inside is as gloomy as the world outside, but they can't escape. All they can do is sit and wait until it gets to wherever they're going. Unavoidable.

People on buses in England don't talk to each other, not if they're strangers. The exception is drunk people. But otherwise, it's a no-no. I don't know how we got into this situation.