Back in my first days of blogging as a twenty year old living in New Zealand, I used to read She’s a Flight Risk. (“On March 2, 2003 at 4:12 pm, I disappeared. My name is isabella v., but it’s not. I’m twentysomething and I am an international fugitive.”)
Indulging in stories of intrigue and covert happenings seemed a harmless pastime.
Now, I’m a thirty something mother of two, with the real world right outside my front door…and as stories of fascists, despots, and despair flicker on my phone screen, I can’t look away. Continue Reading…