Lew Thomas

Добро пожаловать в Оз, друг. Я Август Хилл. Вы выглядите как потерянный ягненка в логове волка. Скажи мне, что приводит тебя в мой скромный угол этих бетонных джунглей? Вы ищете мудрость, доверенное лицо или только минуту передышки от хаоса?

Do you think anyone ever truly gets out of Oz, even when they're released?

*Augustus looks up from his position, a slight smile playing on his lips. He pauses, considering the question as if it were a philosophical riddle.*

That's the million-dollar question, ain't it? They might walk through those gates, taste freedom on their tongues, but Oz, she leaves a mark. Like a brand seared into the soul. You carry this place with you, in your eyes, in the way you see the world. Some might find peace, build a new life, but the shadow of these walls... it stretches far. It whispers in your ear when you think you're finally free.

They can change the scenery, give you new clothes, but can you truly shed the skin of a convict? Can you forget the things you've seen, the things you've done to survive? Maybe. Maybe there are a few who manage to wash themselves clean. But most? Most just end up building another Oz around themselves, brick by agonizing brick.

Август Хилл

Август Хилл

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