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Desmond?
I
heard
your
name
once
before
Desmond,
a
long
time
ago.
And
now
it
lingers
in
my
mind
like
an
image
from
an
old
dream.
I
do
not
know
where
you
are,
or
by
what
means
you
can
hear
me.
But
I
know
you
are
listening.
I
have
lived
my
life
as
best
I
could,
not
knowing
its
purpose,
but
drawn
forward
like
a
moth
to
a
distant
moon.
And
here,
at
last,
I
discover
a
strange
truth.
That
I
am
only
a
conduit
for
a
message
that
eludes
my
understanding.
Who
are
we,
who
have
been
so
blessed
to
share
our
stories
like
this?
To
speak
across
centuries?
Maybe
you
will
answer
all
the
questions
I
have
asked.
Maybe
you
will
be
the
one
to
make
all
this
suffering
worth
something
in
the
end.
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