John River: There was a playground near my grandmother's house. No children. Not for miles. I used to think it was just for me. And I would see this old man looking down at me from his flat. And he would wave at me, and I would wave back. So one day I said to myself, I'll go and knock on his door. I'll speak to him. I was a very nervous boy. But still I walked over to his block of flats and knocked on the door. No one in. I walked back home across the playground and there I saw him, lying in the snow. I didn't know what had happened, but he was dead. And I ran so fast. To Mr. Ahlgren's house. That's what everyone did. And he said, "I'm a policeman. You're alright now." And he took me home. But what I could see that he could not... the old man came home with me and stayed. And talked to me. And I wasn't alone anymore.
Haider Jamal: [River remembering Abdi's words] We've come to this country so filled with hope. So grateful for the potential. Yet still they say, why do we leave our door blindly open to these people? But you migrated here, too. You see what people here do not see. You of all people - if only you had seen me clearly as I see you. See the loneliness. The isolation. What it is to be so far from your country and family. What it is like to try and fit here. How hard it is just to be.
Rosa Fallows: Some people never encounter death their entire lives. And you, you live with it - everyday.