MARCUS: Maximus, let us whisper now. Together, you and I.
You have a son? Tell me about your home.
MAXIMUS: My house is in the hills above Trujillo. A very
simple place ... pink stones that warm in the sun ... kitchen
garden that smells of herbs in the day ... jasmine in the
evening. Through the gate is a giant poplar. [His voice
accelerates with the joy of the memory.] Figs, apples, pears.
The soil, Marcus, black ... black like my wife's hair. Grapes on
the south slopes, olives on the north. Wild ponies play near my
house, they tease my son. He wants to be one of them.
MARCUS: [Smiling at Maximus as he listens to him describe
his home.] Maximus, when was the last time you were home?
MAXIMUS: 2 years, 264 days and this morning.
MARCUS: I envy you, Maximus.
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