1972. Neither the attendant at the hotel, or a neighbor, who lived with him for three years, no one knew anything about the guy who died in a hotel room. Neither the name nor the job. The man was lying on his back on the bed, lifeless gaze directed at the ceiling, in the hand syringe with a needle. "How did he die" - I asked the policeman. "Substandard drugs" - he replied. Later I learned that he was an informant and collaborated with the police.