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Note: We found this diary on a dead Nork and sent it to T.K. for translation. Not a lot of useful info in it, but maybe we can use it for propaganda? - N.S.

My darling Hye-jin,

I do not know whether my last letter I wrote made it past the military censors, so I am writing to you here, in my personal journal, where they cannot read.

I miss you more with each passing day. I miss our walks through Moranbong Park and along the Potong. I miss crossing Mansu Bridge at night and seeing the Ryogyong Hotel lit up like a rocketship ready to take off. I miss our clean, gleaming boulevards, and the smiles on the faces of people we would pass.

They do not smile here.

And the streets are anything but clean. They are piled high with rubble and garbage, and the air is thick and sooty from the fire the locals make in barrels. I am sorry if this offends your delicate sensibilities, but America is a disgusting place.

I want to come home.

Forever yours,

Song-nam

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