I believe by now, the water found its crack ; you found in the great beyond those whom we lost 92 years ago.
Hrant, I have some favors to ask.
Embrace Krikor Zohrab for me. Tell him I have been reading and rereading his short stories ever since I discovered them.
Give Daniel Varoujan my best. Tell him he enlightened my youth with his poems, and he continues to inspire my soul.
Hrant, do not forget to chant songs of survival with Siamanto.
Tell them they are on our bookshelves, they are on our classroom tables, their words are on our lips and in our hearts.
And tell them I believe-I’m sure you do too-that one day, they will be on the bookshelves, classroom tables, lips and hearts of Turks as well.
One day their statues-and yours-will also adorn Istanbul.
Do not forget to pray with Komitas, and tell him that one day, Armenian women will sing again in the villages of Anatolia.
Please find my grandparents. Tell them we carry their names and their love to the land they never left, the land we never saw.
Hrant, kiss the blessed foreheads of each and every victim of the Medz Yeghern of 1915.
Tell them we shall continue to walk on the road of their dreams. Because their dreams are our dreams.
Tell them we shall make the deserts flourish with the scent of their memory.
Tell them that from Talaat to Samast, we are survivors.
Tell them we are all Zohrab, Varoujan, Siamanto, Komitas and Hrant.
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