Think you'll ever get out of here?
Me?
Yeah.
One day, when I got
a long, white beard…
…and two or three marbles
rolling around upstairs.
I tell you where I'd go.
Zihuatanejo.
Say what?
Zihuatanejo.
It's in Mexico.
A little place on the Pacific Ocean.
You know what the Mexicans say
about the Pacific?
They say it has no memory.
That's where I want to live
the rest of my life.
A warm place with no memory.
Open up a little hotel…
…right on the beach.
Buy some worthless old boat…
…and fix it up new.
Take my guests out…
…charter fishing.
Zihuatanejo.
In a place like that, I could use
a man that knows how to get things.
I don't think I could make it
on the outside.
I been in here most of my life.
I'm an institutional man now.
Just like Brooks was.
You underestimate yourself.
I don't think so.
In here I'm the guy who can get things
for you, sure, but…
…outside all you need
is the Yellow Pages.
Hell, I wouldn't know
where to begin.
Pacific Ocean?
Shit.
Scare me to death,
something that big.
Not me.
I didn't shoot my wife,
and I didn't shoot her lover.
Whatever mistakes I made,
I've paid for them and then some.
That hotel, that boat…
I don't think that's too much to ask.
You shouldn't be doing this to yourself.
This is just shitty pipe dreams.
Mexico is way down there
and you're in here…
…and that's the way it is.
Yeah, right.
That's the way it is.
It's down there and I'm in here.
I guess it comes down
to a simple choice.
Get busy living…
…or get busy dying.
