A lawyer fucked me.
Everybody's innocent in here. Don't you know that?
We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men.
We could have been tarring the roof of one of our own houses.
We were the lords of all creation.
As for Andy...
he spent that break hunkered in the shade
a strange little smile on his face watching us drink his beer.
I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about.
Truth is, I don't want to know.
Some things are best left unsaid.
I like to think it was something so beautiful...
it can't be expressed in words...
and makes your heart ache because of it.
I tell you, those voices soared...
higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream.
It was like a beautiful bird flapped into our drab cage...
and made those walls dissolve away.
And for the briefest of moments...
every last man at Shawshank felt free.
Count of Monte Crisco.
That's "Cristo," you dumb shit.
By Alexandree... Dum-ass.
Dumb ass?
Dumas. Know what that's about?
You'd like it. It's about a prison break.
We ought to file that under "Educational" too, oughtn't we?
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged.
Their feathers are just too bright.
And when they fly away...
the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice.
But still...
the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone.
I guess I just miss my friend.
Zihuatanejo.
The freedom.
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