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lexi (sometimes alexis), twenty, photographer living in forida

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  1. Paul: You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken,  you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay,  life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other,  because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You  call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified  somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that  cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip,  Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no  matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

    Paul: You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

  2. Show Notes