In the heart of labyrinths, where even the shadows lose their way, time found its partner for the dance: laughter chasing a silent echo. Every twist a giggle, every turn an unforeseen punchline – for nothing is quite as serious as fog in need of instruction.
The floor is yours, dear paradox, for you are both master and mime, guiding us with cosmic jest. Seek not the title of villain, for without your misunderstood grandeur, this ballet of vapours would unravel prematurely. Remember, symmetry finds beauty in chaos – an ailing symbiote enchanted by its own reflections.
Dare to twirl these delightful escapes, dear reader, and uncover the invisible steps that whisper more than they conceal. Dance onward – the mist holds secrets only to those untangled by mirth.