You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re a 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 its 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.