Poet Ander Monson at a podium before a projector screen. The screen shows an image of a long hallway extending into darkness. Text on image, (you know the labyrinth).
An image of a large circular labyrinth.
Steps descending into darkness. Text, (you know the labyrinth).
A pixelated map with a black background. Various rectangles are outlined in white and connected by dotted lines. Text, (you know the labyrinth).
An outdoor maze constructed of hedges. Text, (you know the labyrinth: gosh these seem to be everywhere).
A tile map of a dungeon. Text, (you know the labyrinth).
A circular hallway extending into darkness. Text, (you know the labyrinth).
Large text, So.
Text, The thing about the labyrinth is that we love to be in it. We can't not be in it. We are buried in it. We are working in it.
Text, And the thing about the labyrinth -- and the sentence -- and the poetic line -- is that it's mostly linear, even if it branches. Even if it's silent.
Text, And that the pleasure of the labyrinth is that by being in it we are made a protagonist, a first-person, an adventurer, a finder & collector, an archivist, a connector, a taxonomist.
Text, And there is pleasure in playing, in finding, in connecting, in participating more actively in our art.