Sydney Harbour Bridge was barely visible through the smoke and amber coloured sky. Men covered in protective clothing sprayed water at the blazing bush. A row of four ducks swiftly waddled their way out of danger.
That was the first time I had seen my new home, Sydney, for over two months. I couldn’t smell or feel the burning heat from the fires but I witnessed the fires and their destructive paths on the TV, the TV inside my Russian prison cell.
