The eighth floor is stripped down: no carpet, no ceiling. Everything’s gone. Except, the workmen seem to have left one table, and around a dozen chairs. Next to this is a single power socket dangling from the wire hanging down from the coil of wire above, and there’s a kettle plugged into it. From the contents of the bin bag propped up against the nearby pillar, it looks like the contractors come up here to eat their lunch and enjoy the view, not that you can see anything at the moment, with the wind and the rain lashing down.