Just landed in NYC
we share a joke with the immigration officer
our luggage is waiting for us
we are queuing for getting a metro card and a girl give me her for free because she's leaving and doesn't need it any longer
as I'm struggling to lift my bag all the way up the stairs a man asks if I need help and insists carrying all the way up for me
this is supposed to be a cold city where nobody cares
instead the kindness of strangers lifts my heart
why do I always feel home when I'm away from what is supposed to be 'home'?
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