This has been a devastating week. Two of the world's finest and most courageous reporters, Anthony Shadid and Marie Colvin, are no longer with us. I saw Marie once in Gaza during the Disengagement in 2005, but never met her. Anthony I did meet. We worked under the same roof for about two weeks covering the revolution in Egypt for the NYT. At the time, the Cairo bureau had so many reporters, photographers, producers, and stringers buzzing through it that it felt kind of like an ant farm. From morning to well after midnight, we were all so busy with deadlines and writing and editing that we barely had time to eat. While waiting for a piece to upload to NY very late one evening, I noticed Anthony smoking a cigarette out on the balcony, so I joined him. We chatted about the day's affairs. I don't remember exactly what we spoke about, but I remember getting this amazing vibe from him. Sometimes you can understand someone's essence in an instant and I felt that way with Anthony. We had just one conversation, but I felt like I knew him. His voice, which I heard for the first time, seemed eerily familiar. Maybe its because I have been listening to it in my internal monologue for so many years through his stories. My gut feelings about him have since been confirmed by the outpouring of letters from people who knew Anthony well. I have learned through some of these tributes that Anthony's writing voice represented the man that he was. Genuine, humble, full of empathy. He didn't care for attention, but rather used his soapbox to raise awareness for the the ordinary man. While we can't emulate talent, we can all try to work as compassionately and diligently as Anthony did. He was a great role model and I wish I could have known him better. My heartfelt condolences go out to the families and loved ones of Marie Corvin and Anthony Shadid. Two extraordinary beacons of light may be gone, but their words and examples will shine on forever.