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In the dark, when you can’t move, there is little difference between sleeping and waking. It is nightmarish either way.
If I was an asshole, at least I knew it and, from time to time, tried not to be.
Maybe that’s the truth at the heart of the labyrinth myth—that we’re wandering, lost, always trying to stay one step ahead of our personal monsters, always ready, sword in hand, spooling out Ariadne’s thread in the hope that one day we will make it out in one piece.
