Despite not taking his boots off at the door, he stands in front of the window, ignoring the squeaking springs of the mattress beneath his feet, and props his elbows in the dust on the windowsill. Two floors below him, a couple of teenagers with fancy hair colours sit talking loudly, each holding a bottle of beer. They don't seem to mind the overflowing rubbish bins next to them or the fact that it's almost three in the morning.