Sometimes in Sydney on the days like today when the fires are burning the sky takes on a hazy Asian tinge. As I walked to work, hungry from a lack of breakfast, I could imagine a small food stall along the footpath, trestle tables and plastic chairs to the side, patrons slurping steaming bowls of noodles and soup or snacking on goreng pisang from little plastic bags.

Except that, being Sydney, it wouldn’t be a rickety old stall but a coffee cart manned by hipster baristas serving styrofoam coffees and muffins shipped from a factory on the other side of the city.

Oh well, I can but dream.