Yourself

In a labyrinth, all you see is the stone wall in front of you. The flicker of torch on sandstone or volcanic rock. You lose sight of other people, of the wind, of the sun. If every question can be answered by listening to the wind, what hope do you have of making any progress here, deep within the earth? This process leaves you with more questions than answers. The minotaur had no choice in being placed at the center of the labyrinth. You did not chose the iceberg of your heart, your id steadily thumping away, turning your fingertips hot, your cheeks red, your chest cold. You have been here before. You may be here less often, but you have been here before and you will be here again. Right back inside the labyrinth. Progress>