Black and white. Vinyl spins on a record player. It is an old Henry Mancini tune that everybody knows. A boy lays half naked on a bed with a can of Red Bull beside him. He answers his mobile phone and a woman peeks through a door. Another boy walks through the city dressed in shorts and tee-shirt. There is a big Jurassic Park tattoo on his right leg. He passes a cafe with a chalked sign that says ‘out of control’ and inside a man drinks coffee from a dirty mug and frowns. He is puffing on a cigarette and making smoke rings. I’m standing on top of a building, lonely and watching, but from here I can shout from miles away. Young boys, a restless breed, who are looking for a fight.