They say prison is a terrible place; hell on earth. But to those that spend more time inside than out, it is the only place they know as home. To the man who serves for life but gets parole after 50 years, its as good as sending a fresh criminal to jail; but no longer are the concrete walls or steel bars physically holding him back, they are already imprinted into his mind, his soul.

"Walls are funny. First you hate them, then you get used to them. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That's institutionalized."

this strikes so deep. because walls can be intangible like those you set around yourself to protect yourself from the world.

all their life, they seek a reprieve from all that grayness, savoring every bit that can be offered in the world of the free, cigarettes, booze, posters, or even the fresher air of the other side. but when they finally get the chance to be on the other side, all they want is back in. Change is hard, even more so if things have been the same old for more than half your lifetime; and you just want to go back to where things made sense.

Seeing Brooks getting parole, leaving Shawshank, looking left and right trying to find out where to go now in his life. Him on the bus, two hands on the seat handle, with that dreaded look on his face not knowing what to expect of this new world he is about to face. Him trying to deal with what we normally pass off as common sense such as doubling bags for heavy groceries. Its just heart-wrenching, if not for a better word, heart-shredding.

I end off with what hit me most in the movie. Brooks' letter to the fellas.



Dear fellas,
I can't believe how fast things move on the outside.
I saw an automobile once when I was a kid,
but now, they are everywhere.
The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.
The parole board got me into this halfway house called "The Brewer",
and a job, bagging groceries at the Food-Way.
It's hard work, I try to keep up but my hands hurt most of the time.
I don't think the store manager likes me very much.
Sometimes after work, I go to the park to feed the birds.
I keep thinking, Jake might just show up and say hello, but he never does.
I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends.
I have trouble sleeping at night.
I have bad dreams like I am falling.
I wake up scared.
Sometimes it takes me awhile to remember where I am.
Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the Food-Way so they'd send me home.
I could shoot the manager while I was at it. Sort of like a bonus.
I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense anymore.
I don't like it here.
I'm tired of being afraid all the time.
I've decided, not to stay.
I doubt they will kick up any fuss, not for an old crook like me.
Tell Heywood I'm sorry I put a knife to his throat.
No hard feelings,

Brooks