Intro. They say that when you look for something too desperately, the universe becomes infatuated with hiding it from you. I have been looking for a roof for three weeks, a simple corner where I can leave my backpack and sleep without being charged by the hour. I've seen everything: caves with Wi-Fi that they call "charming lofts", closets with plugs that they call "cozy room". The demand is so fierce that you feel like you are competing in a gladiator race through four walls. And just today, when I was going to throw in the towel and go to sleep in an ATM, the wind put the answer at my feet. Well, not the answer, but the possibility: a crumpled sign advertising an apartment. It is not in the center, he says, but neither is it at the end of the world. It's that little sliver of light I needed. I don't know what conditions it will bring, nor what surprises await me behind that door. But I know I'm going to ring the bell. After all, what do I have to lose besides my patience, which I already lost a while ago?