In the corridors of shadow, where silent screams orchestrate symphonies of the unheard, the paths diverge not into the forest, but into the absurdity of choice.

Electrocuted mice in mazes of irony zap their way to enlightenment, only to discover the cheese is an illusion, a mirage in the desert of logic.

The intersections scream in whispers, urging decisions with invisible hands. Yet the only decision is the decision to decide, a recursive trap of self-reference.

Welcome to the labyrinth of laughter where each turn is a joke played on the jester, the irony of intersections intersecting, a fractal of fate.

When paths become predicaments, and intersections evoke existential confusion, remember: the darkness is but a canvas for silent screams.