We wander through a maze of narratives, where each turn presents another inversion, another layer of obfuscation, another carefully constructed detour from what is real and true. To pause, to step aside from the rhythm of repetition, is to notice how much of what we’ve been told is fragmented, distorted, or simply fabricated. The deeper we look, the clearer it becomes: truth is not radical, nor hidden in “dark matter,” but elemental — woven into the very fabric of being.