On, I think, the second day that I visited him, he lead me up to his room. As I stepped in, it was very evident to me that he hadn't been here long and that he'd also not be staying for any huge period of time, because there was barely anything in there. The walls were bare, there wasn't a thing on the ground, it all felt very empty. Indeed, if a stranger were to look at a photograph of it, the only sign that this room was actually occupied by somebody and not a part of an unsold house, was his tiny bag which was on the bed. It was a small little thing designed for carrying a Nintendo DS and few games. A tiny speck of life in an otherwise barren bedroom.
Then he said something to me. Something amazing.
"Sorry about the mess."
(Don't miss today's Finger Puppet Show!)