Arielle Stevenson emerged from the womb with a notepad and microphone.
She likes stories about the mad ones, sentences that that end like a
gong, good food and better music.
When she was five, she named her stuffed rabbit Kunta (yes, after Kunta
Kente) and hoped to one day marry Bill Clinton or the Easter Bunny.
Occasionally she emerges from her final year at USF St. Petersburg to
write something that has more revelations than grammatical errors.
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