As we stepped into the vast, echoing hall of twisted mirrors, each reflection whispered secrets long hidden in the folds of time. "Did you remember to bring the sandwich?" I pondered aloud, as logic took a backseat to labyrinthine absurdity.
Somewhere amidst the chaos, a forgotten map unfolded. It led not to treasure but rather to the realization that sometimes the detours are the destination.
"If only we had a GPS," muttered my companion, who held a compass upside-down, proving yet again that true direction lies within.
The sketchy sketch artist appeared, doodling our misadventures in real-time. Each slip and slide into unexpected corridors became the stuff of legend, and probably a sequel. Do we dare turn to page two? That page is now blank, but not for long.
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