New York has a way about it other cities don't, there's no denying it, but it's really only understood by people who have lived there. John remembers the community of the streets, the way he'd felt every night, knowing he had somewhere to go, somewhere people would miss him if one day he stopped showing up. At the time the plan had been exactly that, eventually he would disappear.
But he'd had people to take care of him. People with no reason to, people who had nothing themselves, people who would perhaps have been angry, but they'd never done anything but show him warmth and kindness, and at the time he had desperately needed both.
"And people care," he says. "New York has a reputation for being cold, but I think that's false. People... they care."
There isn't much more he can say about it, but it's the truth. There are cops like Carter and even Fusco. Men like Harold Finch. Women like Shaw and Root. They care, they work to make things better, even if only for a moment. Every gesture matters, even the smallest.
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But he'd had people to take care of him. People with no reason to, people who had nothing themselves, people who would perhaps have been angry, but they'd never done anything but show him warmth and kindness, and at the time he had desperately needed both.
"And people care," he says. "New York has a reputation for being cold, but I think that's false. People... they care."
There isn't much more he can say about it, but it's the truth. There are cops like Carter and even Fusco. Men like Harold Finch. Women like Shaw and Root. They care, they work to make things better, even if only for a moment. Every gesture matters, even the smallest.