Last week, after watching the electrifying quarterfinal clash between Novak Djokovic and Carlos Alcaraz at the Australian Open in Melbourne, I wandered back to my hotel along the tranquil Yarra River. It was past 1 am. Pausing to capture the reflections of glimmering lights dancing upon the river’s surface, I overheard this conversation between a shaggy, old homeless man and a young, intoxicated soul sitting on a bench behind me.
"That bloke – Trump – got sworn in yesterday. Reckon he’s nicked a thing or two from our Aussie immigration rules. No automatic citizenship just 'cause you're born here’,” slurred the drunk.

