Livo is dipped in a vat of Aeroplane Orange Mango jelly. The sky between the high-rise apartments housing yups coming in from the east and the little businesses owned by ‘the ethnics’ is orange. I have a good view of it all. I work on the fifth floor of an office building near the library and I sit right near metre-long glass windows.

In the office, I have to use words like ‘ethnic’, ‘diverse’ and ‘multicultural communities’ just to keep my job, even if those words just lump poor brown people together and capitalise on brownness. But when I’m out of the office, smoking shisha with fellow Westies, we use more nuanced terminology like wogs, lebs, curries and gooks. Sometimes it gets even more technical than that, we say Honorary Leb and Honorary Gook for the random Caucazoid in the group. There’s always one.