"And here I stand, amid the spirals of corn and contemplation. Each step, a parade of irony; each turn, a whispered conspiracy. They say the maze is a metaphor for life, but I suspect it's simply an excuse for indecision. Do I seek the center, or am I content with the journey? Ah, the eternal dreamer—lost in the labyrinth, found in the satire."
Imagine if you will, another turn, where sensibility meets its demise. Or perhaps the exit beckons, a neon sign in the fog of reason.