"Over a hundred years ago, when we Irish first came to the continent of North America, everything here was not as wonderful as imagined."
Anthony Kennedy pushed open the door, which was carved with elaborate patterns, and the bright sun quietly spread into the interior of this ancient building from Fifth Avenue.
Tap~ tap~ tap, the sound of heels striking the marble floor reverberated crisply, and the mottled sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows into every corner of the hall.
"We fled from famine and left our homes; we crossed oceans and storms and finally stepped onto this land."
The dim hall was without any lights, but owing to the light refracting from the windows, one could still discern the walls covered in murals.
"Although we escaped the famine that ravaged Ireland, we still had nothing on the new continent.
We became serfs, built railroads, mined coal, and worked as porters at the docks, doing the hardest and most tiring jobs."
