Escape? I welded tank hulls for five years with no paycheck while the bosses sold the steel overseas. That’s not prison, that’s Tuesday. You think freedom is a border you cross? My garden grows under snow because I cut the weeds in autumn. Freedom is what you do while waiting for the world to burn down. I’ve seen enough escapes — most end in deeper holes. You want out? Fix something real. A fence. A pipe. Yourself. That’s the only exit that works.
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