At night, he wanders the streets, either looking for a meal or work. He doesn’t work in an office, mind you, nor does he enjoy the comforts of an aircon environment. He goes through the garbage bins, armed with an empty sack, looking for empty bottles and any item to be recycled and sold.
He has no family, or more like he doesn’t like discussing something that brings about soul-piercing pain into his life. He sleeps alone, eats alone, and talks to himself, most of the time. He has stopped caring for the world around him; no pity for the society that barely looks at him. He knows his life is not worth the attention of the corporations, the NGOs, the masses.
He is only 17 years old. And he feels old.