There is a place that Will and I go to when I need nourishment that can't be found in a sandwich, sushi roll or any other of my usual lunches. It's a magical place in the middle of the Brisbane CBD, close to where Will's offices are and not that far away from mine (though far enough that I can't be tempted every day). It's a place that we will meet at once a fortnight or so, to enjoy a bowl of what we know is good for us, each other's company and conversation about holidays we want to take, funny things the children have said and done, and how our days have been in anticipation of this meal to come. But once our piping hot meals arrive in the mismatched crockery, we sit quite quietly, the only noises being those of appreciation for what's in front of us (the food and each other I suppose) before yet again announcing that Taro's make the best, the best, bowls of noodles we have ever tasted. Ever.