Watching.

"Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside."

Instead of the cliche mental image of a stone or hedged maze, spirals of overgrown blades of grass come to mind when I read this line. It is probably influenced from the story itself, but I feel that way when I picture myself in a metaphorical self-labyrinth. Wandering aimlessly towards the center, some parts dry and barren while others are overgrown, walls shifting and changing... There's something watching me - I catch glimpses of a figure through blade gaps, its hair the same as mine, skin the same as mine, but its eyes dark and brooding and feral. It follows close but not too close and I want to tell it to go away, to leave me alone, but it knows that at times I get weak and then it can pounce, dominate, relinquish and return.