There was once a delightful restaurant here in Jerusalem called "Parentheses" (sounds better in Hebrew: B'Sograim), in the Jerusalem cafe style - coffee and cakes, selection of pasta, fish entrees, and lovely (students scraping to get by) waiters and waitresses (the cool that comes with the combination of desperation and indifference). In the past couple of years I had eaten there several times and become smitten with one of the waitresses. The restaurant fell on some hard times, and well, wasn't so delightful anymore. The waitress faded into the space of broken disremembered past - whenever I'd walk by the restaurant a vague memory would return, but not enough to make me stop and go in.

A few months ago I met a friend of a friend, a very strange fellow who apparently was living on the streets out of choice. It turns out that he was living on the roof of the restaurant which had long since ceased being a restaurant and was now an abandoned building.

I decided to return to the scene, to see ghosts of the lady, to document the impressive building, and to trespass for SF0.