Fictional or real, it does not matter. The best part about New York is the people.

New York runs on people; The people drive New York to where it is today. While there are no such streets paved in gold, all the streets in New York are paved in gold, which shines in every shade of hue possibly perceivable through human eyes.

They make arts and furthermore become arts themselves without comprehending neither the onus nor the glory of being one. They are the man listening to music. They are the six characters searching for an author. They are the theologian living with the prostitutes. They are the man walking at Penn Station. In this manner, they are New York: a gigantic mosaic of different people–many peoples becoming one and one people becoming many.

And we are they.