Istanbul, Turkey
Dear Hrant,
Friday, Jan. 19. The day you were murdered. I stare at the TV, at your tall, thin body lying dead on the sidewalk of a busy street in Istanbul . You are in front of your office, the office of the Turkish-Armenian weekly you worked so hard to launch and sustain. I cannot take my eyes off the soles of your shoes. Worn out and tired, your shoes are a mute response to all those ultranationalists who accused you of being in the pay of the Armenian diaspora to disrupt the status quo in...
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