[voice-over] To rejoin life is to accept what's happened, but I can't accept it. I can't move forward. I can't turn back. So I hold my breath living in a suspended state of existence.
[voice-over] What do you do when you're told no mail can go out for a week due to security concerns? You get out a pen and paper anyway. Dear Roxy, I'm here, and by the time you get this letter, I might be somewhere else. But right now, Iraq has got to be the driest place on earth. Baby, there's no preparing for this. No books, no pictures, no training. Just the reality. It makes me wonder if sometimes you'd be better off if I had never brought you into this crazy life.
Everything that was familiar is now unfamiliar. What's light is now dark. The world seems a vast and unfriendly place.
Death is everywhere here, in what you smell, hear, see, feel, and somehow, you're just supposed to put it all away. Forget you saw it. Move on. Is this hell?
Where is hell? Never to love again.
