If Fiorella did all the things she's supposed to do, she wouldn't have time to do what she wants to do.
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A friendly mosquito has been gliding around the upstairs bathroom lately, trying to make Fio's acquaintance, but your faithful correspondent has not been receptive.
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When it's a choice betwen villains and heroes, Fiorella chooses the heroes. She sees no reason to be polite to marauders.
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Fio would like to think that collections of her posts will be read, maybe even studied, long after she is gone, but if not, her words will belong to the universe.
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It's easy to drive I-35. All you need are nerves of steel.
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Doesn't anybody see the irony in imprisoned children being forced to pledge allegiance to a country that promises liberty and justice for all?
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