I look at you and I no longer see bronze—I see letters. I wish our words could heal you.
As I look up from the platform, I hope you have a smile on your face and not a grimace.
I read all your letters for you—they’ve all said what they have to say. Now I wish we could read your own.
Having read your letters, having experience the kaleidoscopic waves of woe and hope assailing my normally cold and critical demeanor, I find myself indebted and elevated. My greatest and most solemn thanks.
For we are but men, standing on your giant shoulders.
I hope, for all of your horror, you found someplace beautiful to rest a while.
I cannot say to understand what horrors and such terror you experienced, but I hope, on that last train, in your last letter, you felt loved and that you and your comrades had one last laugh together.
– The Editorial Moderators
Alyssa, Rosie M., Allic, Sean, Chelsea, Rosie T., Tim