Rob lived in a noisy apartment building imperfectly decorated in hues of orange and with a dominant liquor joint on the ground floor. One could easily forgive the owner of the building for the choice of painting and pin it on financial strains or poor taste but the financial decision to lease out the seemingly largest rental space in the building to a disorganized and unethical businessman like Kamaa, was unforgivable, not to mention the tight spaces and limited passageways that meandered around and inside the pub which easily passed as a security threat to the tenants. The interior of the building, too, was flawed; not only was it claustrophobic and deprived of natural light, but it also emanated mouldy scents intertwined with whiffs of washing powder and a wide range of cigarette odours. Like his expressive neighbours, Rob too possessed a sound system with blasting speakers that boomed throughout the day and halfway through the night, playing music that glorified intoxicants and expl...