Gentrification doesn't creep in on cat's feet, it lays before it a pathway of reclaimed wood lit by recessed lighting, builds a home for itself with golden and marine walls, an unfinished mural, a wood handled tap system, beer and one protein only, chicken. At least there aren't Edison Bulbs, lord, I've grown tired of Edison Bulbs. It's nice to have an empty storefront filled by locals on a block which is notable for a peculiar sort of San Franciscan urban decay, where everything is desirable, but nothing is rented.
