A definition of a maze 
is a calling to amaze, splendid design, architecture of wonder.
One wonders why.
Secular labyrinths functioning through trickery and bluff;  the maze is false starts and dead corners.
In the dull protocol of problem solving the maze will seek to absolve a body of its darkness and confusion.
The night implied by the ordeal of choosing just a single path and following it into its bowels, into its end; that one would be propelled beyond a merely personal fate. This is the labyrinth.
Or, one could say, if the labyrinth is of the umbilical cord connecting its walker to primeval mystery – which might nonetheless strangle – then the maze has the patriarchal certitude of a caesarean. A bloody imposition.
The maze is topiary denied its surrealism, horticulture as pure technology.
To emerge from out a maze is to receive due congratulation. A rat will have its pleasure centres electrically stimulated; will get to sup at some sugared water.
To follow the line of a labyrinth in and to then emerge again, even in the most prosaic of settings this has about it a frightening whiff of rebirth.
Go to Hampton Court, explore its maze. There is joy be to observe how the whimsy of royalty is being worn away by the dull, fractious democracy of tourism. This is mere resentment however; no change, no cause for celebration.

The city is built as a maze, not a labyrinth, and here is your definition of the contemporary maze: Trickery, bluff, dead ends. The flailing gesture of institutions kept alive by invested interest and for mere convenience.
We look not for the erosion of tourists but the considered steps of pilgrims, the orgiastic rush of a mystery dance. We are sure that the labyrinth is lying close by, only a step or two away from one’s daily repetitions.

Did you know that you take, within ten or twenty, the same number of paces every single day of the week?

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