The blinds come down gently, real gently.
More roads lead into than lead out of the labyrinth and the sun cannot illuminate them all.
Only the children rush in without fear of ever getting out again.
They laugh, their eyes gladly only seeing a metre or two ahead, never afraid of what might be around the bend or sharp corner.
Only when the sun gives in for another few hours, only then do the children begin to look for a way out.
They glance up, take in the seductive orange and grey of the encompassing sky, and then they notice the shadows which have crept into the labyrinth.
This was the challenge the children did not expect, the suspender of fun.
And as for grown-ups, they figured it out long ago.
They are already gone, short of temper, long in the tooth.
But the children will not be beaten.
They know that one of these roads will lead them out of the unpredictable turns,
away from the closing skies, and into open arms.
The grown ups, they just forgot to remember this.