The year was 1991, I was a few years out of my licence by the courts that meant that I couldn’t leave the city and also had a curfew. It was difficult to leave the darkness where I once existed behind, as instructed, when legally forced to remain in those very same shadows. However things were different in 1991. I no longer had to punch in a time card, like a factory worker, to prove I was in my licence hostel apartment each night. My bed-sit, a one room with a cooker and a bed that I had to return to by 10pm. A giant house full of crackheads and thieves, who were forced to live together and so would steal everything you owned, rendering possessions pointless.