Natasia Bullock sits in F.A.C.T. on Wood Street and surveys the passing stream of people going through the day, like ghosts passing through time, the vapour trail they leave is one that is coloured and magical. The smile on her face never wavers as the assured pleasantries and the usual conversation pieces of two people who know each other well enough to be comfortable in each other’s company, not matter what side of the question they come from.